The Bastard Heir
by I-Am-Toutarout
Summary: When the child between two of the greatest warriors ever known to Valoran is discovered, he is forced into a world that wants to use him. Without a choice, he sets off to find the answers of the childhood that was stolen from him, in a maelstrom of questions without answers. But there is only one answer he wants; Who is his father, and why? (T for some Language)
1. Prologue

**AN: **Rewrite of Chapter 1.

**Disclaimer: I don't own the League of Legends.**

* * *

As the everlasting night falls on the streets of Noxus, a boy strides over to his bedroom window and stares to the distance beyond the glass, dreaming of faraway lands. He eagerly awaits his mother's return, while staring to the brightly-lit west where his national rival resides. In his hands, he absentmindedly caresses the blade that his mother had given to him for his tenth birthday. It was a simple, yet elegant blade that carried the Noxian seal at its hilt with his name carved into the metal. His mother had meant it as a well-meaning gift, and he has accepted it as such.

Even though he is but a child, he knows many things that a fourteen year old boy should not know. He knows the cruel and harsh history behind the plains that he resided in, the unspoken rule of where only the strongest may survive. His mother made it painfully clear when a Noxian man broke into their home only to be struck down. But, most likely due to the blood that runs through his veins, what made this incident matter so much to him wasn't the fact that the 'lack of kindness' that his mother had showed to him was not on purpose. Emotions carry weakness, and weakness brings about death.

The boy turns away from the window, predicting that his mother will not be coming home for another night, and absentmindedly throws the knife from his hand to the opposing wooden wall, embedding itself in the middle of the cross of a picture of the Demacian Crest. His mother had once brought it home, saying that it was a good scapegoat for target practice. But he knew that this crest was more important to his mother than she was letting on. The tilt of the head and stance, the seemingly uncaring, cunning eyes that glimmered, gave it away almost too easily. It was a crime, the child knew, to have the crest of your rival hanging on your wall. Not an official crime, not one that can be charged with a legitimate sentence, but one of a social branch, where scornful eyes and curses muttered under breathes will follow you to your death.

Maybe it's genetic, but he had found his laceration of the Demacian crest to be strangely enjoyable.

He flung himself onto his bed. As he stared at the ceiling, his mind wandered towards his memories in a futile attempt to channel memories of his father, as he had tried many times. When he had asked his mother, during one of their happier moments, about his heritage, the tone of her voice while she sharpened her blades was not one of love or compassion, but came off as an implication of mutual respect and awe. As far as he knew, his father and his mother had little to no mutual affection towards each other. When questioned on how they led to procreating him, his mother would shrug it off with categorizing it as a 'moment of weakness'.

Despite of how his mother had referenced his father, he was not short of affection from his single parent. She would give him just enough to survive by himself, like any other Noxian child, and would sometimes give a light embrace or two. She had never allowed him to attend the Noxian schools like the other children, nor did she ever let him go out by himself. She had always made sure he was with her, never leaving her sight.

He sometimes grew jealous, of course, when he sees the schoolchildren walk through the path that cut past his house, prancing with armblades and magic alike. But he respected his mother's wishes.

As he began to fall asleep, the scraping of boots and knives resonated from the floor below. He opens his eyes. He slides off the bed, grabs the knife from the bedside table and silently heads down with the blade clutched tightly in his right hand. As he approached the staircase, he peeked down from the banister to the living room below. He could not see much, but he managed to catch a glimpse of a flash of red hair. He let out a breath as he tucked the knife away.

His mother had returned.

* * *

He stepped down the stairs, careful not to make any noise as he entered the kitchen. His mother was sitting at one of the chairs, bloody, bruised and her eyes hiding behind her long red fringe. The chair was tilted back, her boots on the table and twirling one of her prized knives with her fingers. Under the weak light, he could see glistening sweat and her tired breathing from a long day of work. Obviously, she was fatigued and definitely not interested in talking to her son.

Wouldn't stop him from trying, anyway.

She didn't give any recognition to him as he walked into the room. He took the seat opposite the table, sat up as straight as possible and stared at his mother, sometimes looking around to break contact.

There were a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Much to his surprise, it was his mother who broke it first.

"So... how was your day?"

He was stunned by the oddly common question, and shook his head warily.

"It was fine."

"No intruders?"

"None."

"Did you practice today?"

"Yes."

"Score?"

"13 bulleyes for throwing knives, 2 bounces at maximum and withstood their sharpness."

"Hmph. Anything else?"

"…No, mother."

"Hm."

"…Mother? How was work?"

"Nothing special. Why?"

"No reason…just wanted to know a bit about the life in the city…"

"Hm."

Katarina suddenly struck the table with the bloody knife, embedding it into the wood. But he did not flinch. He simply held his head steady, unfazed by his mother's actions.

With the temperature of the room going down by a few notches, the child decided that his daily ten minutes of his mother had been completed. He got up from his seat, muttered a goodnight, and started back up the stairs. As he ascended the stairs, he got a glimpse of his mother pulling the knife out of the table and restarting its twirl.

* * *

He shut the door and flung himself onto the bed. Why couldn't she be like other mothers, those spoke of in his books? Why couldn't she show more compassion? Why did she have to make every single short conversation, if you can call it that, like stepping onto a minefield? Why couldn't she just talk to him like a normal person? And why doesn't she let him out of this accursed house? Why can't he just attend normal Noxian schools like normal Noxian children? And why couldn't he see his father? What was his mother hiding from him?

And who was his father anyway?

His tantrum did not last for long. He had been used to such questions flowing through his head, but he did not have the guts to even ask her about them. He had never seen his mother angry with him, the worst being only the lack of his recognition. But he did not want to know how his mother is like when she is angry. The blood stains across her body are already proof of that.

Strangely exhausted, he attempted to sleep. But the pangs of hunger in his stomach keep him awake, having not eaten since the afternoon. Eventually, the pain subsided and he begins his journey into his dreams. But what he saw was nothing but darkness. All he saw, all his memories, were darkness. It was like his entire brain was engulfed in a black mist. He was in a world, where he couldn't see. And he liked it that way.

At least, he hoped he did.

He was suddenly awakened by knocks on his door. Bleary eyed and hungry, he forced himself to stumble towards the door and turned the handle. There, he saw nobody. He looked left and right, but there were no signs of his mother anywhere. But when he looked down, he found a full loaf of bread pinned to the floor with a clean knife, together with the familiar sight of the luminescent red flask that always seemed to rejuvenate him.

Dinner.

He bent down to dislodge the knife. He picked up the bread and the flask, and turned back to his room. Before he had even shut the door, he was already gnawing away at the piece of bread and taking sips of the red fluid. As he ate on the edge of his bed, he felt his eyes start to water. He soon finished the food and drink, brushed off the crumbs on the bed and laid back to sleep. The mist of darkness seemed to have risen from his head, leaving him somewhat comfortable. Under his breath, he thanked his mother for keeping him alive.

Eyes closed, he broke into a slight smile as he fell into the deep abyss of his dreamyard.


	2. A Short Prelude Through Dreamland

**AN: **Rewrite of Chapter 2.

**Disclaimer: I don't own the League of Legends**

* * *

...

He was floating, that was the first thing he realised.

He had his eyes open, that was another thing that he knew too.

But if so, why did he feel that he was blind?

He could feel his eyelids open, the dilation that pulsed in his pupils and the focus that drew his sight.

And yet, there was nothing.

Nothing but the darkness.

He floated through the darkened haze in a stupor, aimlessly searching for something that he did not know.

But then, he froze in place as the feeling washed over him.

Gently, as if like a silk cloth, he felt a light caress across his cheek.

The feeling left a cold touch to his skin, chilling his bones.

But instead of leaving him, the feeling began to spread.

First his cheek...then his mouth...then his nose...and finally stopping as he felt his eyes freeze to ice, open to watch the void around him.

He did not know if the rest of his body was as cold as it was, and he did not care.

For what his frozen eyes now saw, barely inches from his face, was something...something that was of pure, nigh-unetheral darkness.

And it was boring its baleful gaze into his eyes.

No face, a mass of depth into where its eyes were apparently supposed to be.

A socket, a pure black hole.

And his frozen eyes were staring right into it.

_**"Come...Succumb..."**_

He heard an echo in his head, a small whisper that pecked away at his mind.

He knew it in his bones that it wasn't right.

_**"Embrace the darkness..."**_

The echo became stronger as he tried, oh he tried, to move.

But his body was frozen in place, his breath sealed as he saw the darkness advance further upon him.

_**"CoMe ANd jOiN uS..."**_

The echo was clearly a voice now, yelling into his mind in a broken, scratchy voice.

His eyes widened in pure terror as he felt the being wrap its essence around his body, chilling it even further.

_**"jOin...uS...!"**_

It yelled into his head, his cold bones unable to move or resist.

He suddenly found his mouth shoved open, as he felt the cold fill his mouth, freezing his lungs...

...and into his heart.

"Ngh...no..."

The eyes were now pressing out against his face as he felt the cold wrap around his heart, squeezing it to the point of suffocation...

And as his eyes were bored into, he felt one last, screaming, excruciating echo that audibly shattered his skull.

_**"GIVE...IN!"**_

The cold made it impossible for him to feel any of his limbs, but he could feel the pain as his facial orifices began to be destroyed.

He felt a pressing at the sides of his skull, which he registered as his hands.

His line of sight soon met with his waist, bent down in pain as he felt his eyes get wrenched out of their sockets, losing his sight.

Stuck in the caress of darkness, he felt a sound come from under him, which his ears could barely pick up, filled with the cold tendrils.

It was a scream, a whisper to him, but it could very be a yell from a feral animal.

The screams soon stopped when he felt a painful stab in his back, passing through his body with such pressure...

...which soon was released in a thrust that pierced through his chest.

A bright flash of light enveloped his sight instantly, blinding his eyeless sockets as a mocking laugh rang through his head...

* * *

The young boy threw his entire frame up from the bed, his breath heavy and sweating from head to toe. His eyes shot open as his eyes adjusted to the light of the room, his head twisting from left to right to scan about the room in panic.

Blink.

The room stayed as it was.

Blink.

His gaze wandered to the floor, where it laid barren. While dark, there were nothing that could possibly hurt him.

Blink.

No monsters.

Blink.

Nothing.

Yes, this was reality.

The boy relaxed himself, slowing his breathing until his vision cleared. Rubbing his crusted eyes, he massaged the bridge of his nose and let out a tired sigh. It was a routine he had created; to calm his brain and mind to clarity. But the most that it has ever done for him was dampen the ferocity of the experience. Ever since that he could remember, he had been plagued by these night terrors in an eerie repetition. He has never brought up these problems with his mother, as he knows for a definite fact that she would not accept such weakness, followed by berating of it.

Lying back onto the pillow, he found that he was too afraid to go back to sleep again lest he dropped back into that infernal darkness again. Instead, he pondered on the state that he was living in now. As far as he knew, his mother had little to no reason to keep him alive other than to train him and out of pure humanity.

The training.

He flinched at the memories; the grotesque sound of steel hitting flesh, the splatter of innocent blood on his hands, the cries of mercy from his registered targets as his mother put the blade in his hand. It rung through his head like an unholy symphony that could not stop conducting.

Every day he would awake, stumble to the back of the house where dilapidated targets would be there for him. His mother had never enforced this routine, but he had been so deprived of human interaction that he had nothing to do but comply with it. Knives were thrown, wood was cut, meat from game cut up and harvested. But once in a while, he would find a chained man with a hood on his head and screaming muffled curses which his mother expected to find gutted and cut up by the time she returned.

He has never missed a day.

His mind wandered to remember the first time he ever handled an execution; the one and only time that he had ever had a proper (yet short) conversation with his mother. Perhaps it was because he longed for the attention, or perhaps it was the blood in him, but he remembered what he had done to that man.

Will that be what he would do when he grew up? Was that what his mother was?

Perhaps in an act of rare mercy, he found himself asleep before his mind allowed the bloodstained pictures to form.

* * *

...

Blink.

The darkness flashed.

Blink.

The light flashed.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Dark, light, dark.

Such a peculiar dream.

He wasn't floating this time; his feet were firmly planted on nothingness.

Actually, he couldn't move at all.

Pulling, struggling, yanking, it did nothing to lessen the grip on his ankles.

And the strobe of light that flickered on and off every time he blinked did not help either.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Dark. Light. Light.

Wait, what?

Blink. Blink.

Light. Light.

The strobe had stopped.

His eyes widened in fear as he felt the familiar and ghostly caress on his cheek.

But, unlike the dream, it was completely different.

His skin warmed at its touch, and in him he felt a light that sparked within him.

The light that burned his eyes lessened his glow, allowing him to see that it was not a light, but a projection.

The projection, was a being of pure, white energy.

His lower body immobilized, he could only gawk at the being in front of him.

The being inched closer to him, leaving a trail of neon white as he floated towards the captive boy.

He heard a voice, in a voice that was gentler and kinder than previously.

_"Come..."_

The being was now standing only an arm's length away from him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but once again he found himself mute.

The being was closer now, with a form that he could make out as rather feminine.

_"Don't..."_

The sound resounded softly in his head.

The being slowly raised up what he assumed to be an arm, but it looked more like a tendril than anything.

He flinched away when the white tendril grazed his face, wary.

_"...Resist..."_

The voice was tenderly soothing and kind, a sharp comparison to his previous encounter.

_"Go..."_

He found his eyes rather heavy, the soft and echoing voice calming him.

He did not even notice when the being raised up another tendril, coiling around his form.

_"...To..."_

A delightful warmth came over him.

The being soon materialized into a person in front of him.

Light, shifting and shaking into a corporeal form.

A feminine shape appeared, her fingers releasing the tendrils that coiled around his body.

_"...Sleep."_

The last thing he saw was a smile that struck a strange nerve in him, before he blacked out.


	3. Dread Burns Hottest At Dusk

**Disclaimer: I don't own the League of Legends.**

* * *

The boy was forcibly dragged out from his dreamscape by a sharp scratching on the floor below. Bleary eyed, he staggered towards the window to sneak a look down to see what was going down there. Through the blur of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of shining steel, held onto purple blurs and barely grazing the stone pavement. As his hearing sharpened, he heard the faint scraping of boots.

Overwhelmed by curiosity, he swept up a knife from the floor and crept out of the room to the banister of the wooden stairwell. Without making a sound, he looked down to the bottom floor. His mother and the mysterious man were standing in the hallway, allowing him to see just over the top of their heads. Despite fearing detection, he leaned forward a bit under the bannister and managed to take a good look at the man.

Dressed in purple Noxian garb, the man's cowl covered what hair he had. His cape was pretty much just long strands of cloth wrung like a cape dangling as far to his ankles, where a large, sharpened blade stuck out from each end. But the most prominent was the large blade attached to his wrist of the right hand, which he was absentmindedly scraping with his left with a piece of colourless stone.

A stranger, intruding into his home.

* * *

Katarina stared menacingly at her foster brother, who had an annoyed scowl that remained shadowed underneath his hood. Talon was leaning on the opposite wall, sharpening his wrist blade with a primed whetstone.

"Would you please not sharpen your blade right now? It's pissing me off." She said.

Talon gave a small smirk as he continued sharpening it, notably louder than before.

She rolled her eyes. "Did you find anything?"

Through the loud scratching he must have heard her, as he slowed his hand movements.

"Of course not. We've searched high and low. My contacts were nearly caught." His voice was deep and rough, with the edge of annoyance as sharp as he was making his blade to be. "I don't see why you are so insistent on going to such means to find him. It is quite obvious that he is neither in here nor there."

She turned her head in annoyance, facing toward the darkened window beside her and giving out an exasperated sigh.

"Keep looking. He has to be around here, somewhere." Katarina's absentmindedly blew her fringe out of her eyes as she refocused her gaze. "How about the High Council? Do they know anything?"

Talon shook his head, holding it down. "No word from our contacts. General Du Couteau seemed to have inexplicably and absolutely vanished. But we will continue our search."

Katarina could hear the venom behind her foster brother's voice. She felt slightly yet weirdly comforted by the thought.

He twisted his neck, releasing tension with a crack and breaking into a sudden rogue's smile. "Speaking of searching... how's the search for the kid's dad?"

Katarina first stared at him with confusion, before changing to a burning look of annoyance that it made Talon flinch slightly.

"It was a moment of weakness, Talon and nothing else. There is no 'child'." She said flatly, but the aggression behind it was as clear as the knives bound on their waists.

Talon rose his hands in mock defeat and smirked.

"Fine, fine. But as so you know…"

He stopped sharpening and put away his whetstone, before playfully reflecting the already dim morning light into his foster sister's eyes.

"Noxus doesn't forgive weakness." He said warningly.

Katarina stood there for a moment, their eyes interlocked, before they both broke into a small chuckle.

"But seriously, I hope that there is no 'scars' from that mission?" Talon asked, with an uncharacteristic serious edge to his voice.

Katarina made a brief glance up the stairwell, a very brief look so that Talon couldn't notice, before replying with an arrogant smirk.

"Of course."

Talon nodded in begrudging understanding, before turning for the door.

"Good."

As he opened the door, the dim blue light above the city cast an entrancing blue shadow of Talon's being.

"Oh, and by the way, the Grand General has admitted a new House into the nobility."

"Hm?"

"The House of Esprit. Apparently some guy sucked up enough to get Swain to establish him."

"You know that I hate stuff like that."

"Eh, just wanted to inform you." Talon shrugged. "See you later."

"Hm."

Katarina watched as Talon vanished into the darkness, the open door swinging lamely behind him. Katarina reached to close the door, before feeling a chill run through her spine. The last bit of news that Talon had told her impacted her greatly, even though she had no idea what it was. She shrugged it off and shut the door.

The feeling of dread coursed through her bones as she looked out the window just left of the door. She could feel it; the feeling of a momentous change was about to take place.


	4. The Three Blademasters

**AN: **Rewrite of Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends, it is owned by Riot Games.**

* * *

Solemnly staring at where her foster brother's shadow had disappeared, she was lost in her sea of thoughts. The dusky blue sky cast an ambient light over her, her stoic face unmoving even when she detected his presence. While she knew that his footsteps were as quiet as it could have ever possibly been for his calibre, he still has not learnt how to hide his breaths and pulse. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine his current stance. Every movement, every shift of his eyes, it all was apparent for his own breath and heart had betrayed his place.

He still had so much more to learn.

"Mother."

She opened her eyes. Her son, calling to her. She turned sharply, but tipped her head ever so slightly downwards to meet with her son's cold, mismatched eyes.

"Yes?"

He stood stoically, staring with cold eyes that bore into hers.

"Who was that man?"

She noticed the blade, its handle jutting out from his waistband, with his unflinching eyes tracking her every move.

"...Your uncle."

She noticed the hostile gaze in his eyes falter, turning to an innocent curiosity.

"I have an uncle?"

Katarina held in a smile as she marvelled at how innocent her son looked. If it weren't for the blade that was tucked into his waist and the strong gaze he held, she would have considered him as an ordinary, weak and innocent child. Perhaps it was the fear of losing him, but she began to notice the traits of his body that he had inherited from his parents. A growth of velvet red hair sprouted from his scalp, slightly long but slender straws of scarlet whose fringe reached to his eyebrows. A shame that she had inherited her slender form; lanky arms, thin legs and a lean body shape that would have given Ezreal a run for his money, it was of no question that he was built to be an assassin, to easily slip in cracks of the enemies and end their lives in the matter of seconds. He had most definitely inherited all of this from his mother; almost nothing of him would be recognised as his father.

However, his eyes were of a different story, the only proof of which that he was not fully composed to Noxian blood. Suffering from a case of heterochromia, his left eye was clear azure, a look pure of any form of deceit or lies. But his other was a brilliant viridescent emerald, a look flourishing of manipulation and Machiavellian trickery.

But at least for now, his family will only be recognised as of Du Couteau.

She assumed that he had just woken up, seeing that he was in de-armoured attire. A grey undershirt was belted down by leather straps, bound onto the joints of his arms and a belt bound at the waist, with a simple black pair of corduroys that led down to a pair beige cloth shoes. His unblemished, childlike face wore the grime of the morning, dark shadow circles around his eyelids showed his uncomfortable sleep. His scarlet hair was dishevelled and stuck up in various places like the wicks of a flame, festering with split ends.

She refocused herself.

"Yes. A step-uncle, actually." she replied.

She could see that he was uncomfortable; he shifted his weight between his legs and his pupils dilated in confusion.

"Who is he?" he asked back.

"None of your concern."

* * *

She retired herself to her room. Tossing her blades across the room with little care of elegance, she sat down on the bed and held her head in her hands. Was she doubting her decision? She had calculated it, from the moment he had chosen duty over family. Until her son was at least 16 years old, he will not step a foot out of this house, his only source of education to be from her. She couldn't risk her family and most especially the High Command finding about her child, for even if he was fully Noxian he would be subjected to the worst kind of oppression and brainwashing that would taint his soul.

The training that takes place within the Noxian barracks is nothing short of torture, which she knew first hand. She was a gifted child of the Du Couteau family, so of course she wasn't part of the full training. At least most of it. She remembered sharpening and thrusting her swords into wooden pillars at the side-lines as the other, younger, less talented recruits were bashed repeatedly with blunted swords while staring at her with the most hate they could muster. She was already gifted in assassination, her father knew, but what she needed to train up was her mind and will. She was cut off from the common cavalry training, meant to only watch as her fellow trainees were battered.

Then when it was done, she was to rejoin them again at the food table.

She remembered the whispers, the hateful looks, the twitching hands of her peers. They wanted to strangle her, hang her by the noose, behead her with her own knives, hating the fact that she was born into such a glorified family. They couldn't touch her, but they thought that she was a scapegoat, sent as an example to prove that the nobles somewhat respected the High Command. They thought she was weak.

But then sparring day came.

It was eight whole months of mental torture by the hands of her peers, when she was paired with a boy nearly twice her height. By then she had nothing but contempt for them, no form of respect for any of them. She remembered his cocky smile, thinking that this girl, who hasn't trained a day in her life, would be taught a lesson today. She remembered his angry yells as he charged at her, with the cheers and chants of the others as he came at her with the sword. She remembered the thought she had before appearing behind him, a knife driven in his stomach and a red smile across his neck.

_"So slow."_

She remembered the rush she felt when she did that, the real smile that stretched across her face when she saw the pool of blood behind her. She remembered the horrified silence around her, the approving and nodding heads of her father and the trainers, the look of terror and fear on the other's faces. She remembered the umpire pitting her again, just after she had killed her first target, against another three of the trainees. At this point the recruits thought of her win as a fluke, a one-trick pony, and resumed to cheer on their fellow trainees. She remembered licking the blood of her blade before spinning around then, throwing out her hidden daggers, a red shower coating the sparring arena. When she stopped her rotation, she was coated, for the first time in months, with blood. She remembered its warmth, the smell of metallic life that was within the liquid. She remembered licking a bit of it off her fingers in sadistic delight.

But what she remembered the most was her father looking upon her with such pride, beside the now-horrified trainer, smiling. That was when her real training began. She was picked out of the training ground personally by her father, who he and many other assassins chosen by him trained her to her absolute potential. Through all this, her father had brought out her greatest strength; her lust to kill.

It had worked on her, why wouldn't it work on her son?

She gave a punch to her forehead. She remembered the innocent look on his face when he found that he had another relative, that his mother wasn't only his own. She didn't want him to lose that innocence, to become into the blood lusted killer that she had been forced into. He had a talent, she could feel, that others would use to their advantage. If they found out that he was the bastard child of two of the greatest families in Valoran, inheriting the strongest of their given abilities, he wouldn't only be looked upon with disapproval, but with malicious interest of breaking him, to serve the needs of his country.

While he rarely smiled, Katarina remembered one of the rare times he did. It was a calm day, she being off work and with time to spare, she chose to play with him rather than train him. He was only six, she recalled. She gave him a bunch of empty glass potion bottles, filled them with water from the tap, and gave him a metal rod to hit them with. She remembered quietly sharpening her knives in the corner as the shrill 'clinks' of the glass hitting metal pierced the air. She remembered turning around when she was done, to see how her son was doing. He then turned up at her, thinking that her looking upon him was to scold him at first, but then noticed the ghost of a smile on her face.

And he smiled with such happiness; with such purity that only a mother could feel.

* * *

He stepped up to the window to look at the shadowy background of the place he had called home. The dark clouds that blocked most of the light above, filtered into a sinister grey, moved slowly across the sky. His mother had forbidden him to leave the house, which he had obeyed without question, but he couldn't help but wonder what lied beyond his house door. At first he thought the world as a ghost town, with him and his mother the only occupants, with the small exception of the people she had him dispose. They not extremely happy together, but happy enough to live with each other.

Ever since he was five, she had him have either a sharpened wooden or metal dagger on him, to practice the feeling of having a weapon near his person. She taught him everything he knew; how to crawl, walk, talk, eat, cut, stab, holding a knife, stabbing a person, everything. She taught him that killing people was no more than a day's common chore, which he considered it to be.

But some part of him, deep within him, told him that it was wrong.

He recalled the numerous people he had killed, men with bags on their heads, muffled voices speaking incoherently as he slit their throat with the given knife. He remembered the first time he did it, the man with chained to a chair with a sack on his head, tied at the neck. Something in his mind told him that it was wrong when his mother handed him the knife, tell him the chore, and left to who knows where. He remembered the aching feeling at the back of his mind, telling him that he shouldn't cut where his mother told to cut. He did it anyway. The aching disappeared after that; he didn't expect a red, metallic smelling liquid gushing out of the cut and staining his shirt. He didn't think of it much, maybe there was a bag of red water in there. His young mind felt nothing, the feeling of killing a person lost onto him.

He still didn't feel anything today, just annoyance that his mother had him clean up the watery mess after each kill.

He suddenly felt an itch on the tips of his fingers. Bringing his hand level to his eyes, he saw that his fingers were glowing with a soft white light. He twisted his face into a scowl and shook his hands a bit, like swatting a fly, and the lights were gone. He refocused his gaze beyond the window, quietly wondering what lay hiding in the shadows.

Talon perched himself on one of the roofs of the small alley, allowing him full view of the house. Katarina has been nothing short of suspicious ever since she was tasked to infiltrate Demacian walls and collect as much data as she could on the state of their armies there. They had all been shocked and horrified when she accidentally revealed that she had, in fact, spent a night with one of the nobles of Demacia. She claimed that it was all planned, with evidence of an incredible mass of data on the movement and census of the number of soldiers in their ranks (as well as some of Piltover's armaments) to support it, which caused many to instead congratulate her on her infiltration. However, upon his further questioning and a bit of teasing, she had admitted that she had spent one extra night in Demacia, after completing her mission. Katarina obviously trusted him not to spread the information, which he had honoured to this day, but what he asked next was met with distrust.

* * *

_"Why would you do that?!"_

_"It was a moment of weakness!"_

_"A weakness you do not have!"_

_"And what do you know? You've lived your entire life without any kind of love!"_

_"I know enough! Didn't that scar of yours teach you enough?! Pray tell you didn't get knocked up by that fool."_

_"..."_

_"...By your father's name are you bloody kidding me?!"_

_"NO!"_

_"You seriously...seriously?!"_

_"I DID NOT!"_

_"...Are you sure about that? This is very-"_

_"YES I AM."_

_"…Geez. Fine, fine. No need to shout. I'll take you up on that."_

* * *

While he meant what he said, he still found it incredibly suspicious when she had asked for an extreme extension of period on another mission in Demacia later that year. She had later returned with even more data, which once again regained everyone's belief that she was indeed hard at work as well as earning a rare compliment by the Grand General himself, but Talon swore that Katarina seemed more out of breath than usual on that day. This was reinforced by her request of moving out from her original home in the middle of Noxus to the outer rim of the city. At this point everyone didn't think much of it, the Du Couteau family recently losing their leader and thinking that her movement of home was for her to grieve. In the rare chance that he was off work, he observed his foster sister's movements. It was either that she was cautious, or that she was telling the truth.

As of now, he's placing a bet on her just being cautious.

He prepared to leap away to his quarters when a small, dim light caught his eye. He had been trained to see the unintelligible, to see through the darkness of Noxus, which let him observe, from the corner of his eye, a flicker of light through the bottom left window. He turned to see a fluff of red hair perch itself on the window sill, barely able to be seen, but allowing Talon to fully realise what it was.

She lied.

At first, he contemplated confronting her about it. He could leap back in front of the house door, demand to search the premises, and dishonour the Du Couteau name.

Not an option.

So he did the next best thing. He turned his head away, made a mental note of the address, and leapt away with a scowl.


	5. First Blood

**AN: **Rewrite of Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own the League of Legends.**

* * *

He was left in the house alone the next day. Despite it being the seventh day of the month, the only day of rest from the 6-day work week, his mother had to work every day as being the Head of the House of Du Couteau. He hadn't received any orders from his mother today; a sign that he had the entire day to himself.

To be completely honest, he had literally only three things to do that would barely amuse him; train, sharpen blades or sleep. If he had a choice he would train; sharpening blades created too much dust and he was too afraid to sleep in the morning. But currently it was as if he had no initiative to move at all, being bored close to tears. He was currently lying about on the couch in the living room, a comfortable sofa that he had never seen anyone even come close to touching; he even had to wipe off some of the petrified dust on it.

Finding some form of energy, he lumbered up from the couch and dusted himself off. It was as if he was at a low after a sudden high; it was as if he had no initiative to anything that morning. Giving a small sigh, he wandered down one of the longer hallways, stopping in front of a full-length mirror that graced a side of the wall. Curiously, he observed his image with intense interest.

He was still wearing what he was yesterday; a white, oversized shirt with brown pants. The only difference between him last night and this morning was his messy hair and dark circles around his eyes. The longer he stared at the mirror, the more he realised that resembled his mother. He felt uncomfortable thinking of how similar his body shape was to her; lean with thin arms, the velvet red hair completing the similarity. The only thing that he had inherited from his father was his left eye; a clear blue pupil that glinted in the light. He stared a bit longer at the mirror, focusing on the iris, as if the azure pool would some how show the identity of his father.

He was dragged out of his stupor when his ears picked up soft clicks from the front door. Acting upon instinct, he crept into one of the rooms and into a closet to hide. Once again, another stranger, entering his house. He did not know the intruder's motives, and he did not wish to know. He ducked underneath the hung clothes of shirts and pants in the closet and lied against the back. His mother was not here to protect him, to ensure his safety. What if his uninvited guest came to steal something; books, weapons, money? Or if he had come for blood? He shivered at the thought, but it soon gave way to curiosity.

What if he could do something about it?

The clicking continued. The intruder was obviously failing to pick the lock, and he heard small grunts of frustration from below. It was a while before he got the courage to peek out from the closet, collect a few small blades from a nearby cabinets, latch them onto his body and creep downstairs.

He found a good spot, just behind the wall of an opening to the front hall. He heard the annoyed grunts, louder now, of a man outside. The man was obviously an amateur. He felt the rush again, the rush of imagining the blood that would come from killing a living, yet unaware man. He then heard the door click, a louder one this time, and the creaking of the door. The man had succeeded in picking the lock, and from the sounds of his footsteps on the floorboards he could hear him walking towards the room he was in. His mind faded out, his bloodlust peaked, and he could only see black and red. The moment he sensed the man enter the room, unaware of the fate that awaited him, he licked his lips.

And he spun.


	6. The House of Du Couteau

**AN: **Rewrite of Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own the League of Legends.**

* * *

_**High Command Headquarters: Grand General's Office**_

Jericho Swain sat comfortably in his armchair, his arms crossed on the table. His eyes were closed, his mind deep in thought as he digested the picture in front of him. It was printed using Zaunite camera technology, a crystal-clear picture of a red haired, blue and green-eyed boy, resting his face on the windowsill of the remote house of Katarina Du Couteau. He furrowed his brow. This explained it all, the suspicious schedule of leaves she had eleven years ago, just after the Kalamanda incident. She had a child, hidden away from the public eye for whoever knows why.

But that wasn't why he was so intrigued.

A child from Katarina, one of the strongest soldiers that Noxus has ever seen, as well as being a member and heir of the House of Du Couteau, this child must most certainly contain some form of special power. But what made him the most interested in this was his second half; his father. From the picture of his mismatched green-and-blue eyes, Swain had a very good idea of who he was. Two of the strongest people who ever existed, the offspring possibly containing the best of them, has come to light. On his side of the chessboard.

But the problem was that for eleven years, this…boy had been kept away from his notice. This meant that if he made one wrong step, one wrong move, and this potentially legendary character will disappear, and possibly for good. The Du Couteaus are one of the High Houses for a reason, he thought. If there is somebody they didn't want found, not even the High Command would be able to find them. He needed a plan to weed him out, for him to serve Noxus with unmatched loyalty. The boy needed to be his, not…theirs.

Swain opened his eyes. He absentmindedly scratched the back of Beatrice's head as he reached for a piece of paper and quill.

* * *

_**The House of Du Couteau**_

Katarina settled in at her desk, mildly annoyed at the piles of papers that were piled on her. Ever since her father disappeared, she was forced into the position as the Head of Du Couteau family. She at first couldn't give a damn about it; until she realised the position was in charge of the very state of the family. She was needless to say quite annoyed by the idea of handling papers rather than blades.

When she was checking through an appeal for a missing person for the umpteenth time, she heard a knock on her door. Before she could respond, the purple visage of Talon appeared in her room. He was disarmed, with his armblade hidden somewhere.

"Sister, I would like to have a word with you."

"Hmm?"

Katarina was internally pleased to be distracted.

"I was tasked to give this to you."

Talon reached into his cape and revealed an incredibly ornate letter, with the initials of the Noxian High Command imprinted on the seal. Katarina picked it from his hands.

"What is it about?"

Talon shook his head.

"It is to be read by you and you only. Orders are orders."

She gave a small smile at her brother, but elicited none from him.

"If you would excuse me."

He stepped across her to the exit, leaving her on the stairwell alone.

Katarina watched as her brother went off, before feeling the letter in her hands. It was a simple correspondent, similar to the notices of summons she would consistently receive. She undid the seal and pulled the letter, written on crème paper, out from its packaging.

* * *

_**To the House of Du Couteau:**_

_I am pleased to inform of you that in light of the anniversary crowning of the new Grand General of Noxus; the Esteemed Jericho Swain, the Noxian High Command has decided to prepare a glorious spectacle of a bracket fight; where each of the High Houses of Noxus are to send a representative of their house to the presence of the new Grand General as a special event, to honour the 5__th__ anniversary of the Grand General's rule. Each of the High Houses of Noxus is obliged to send __**ONE**__ candidate to take part in a spectacle of which the winner will be championed._

_This letter, as read from the Head of the stated House has been replicated and sent to each of the other Houses as well. Due to this, the reaping of champions will be delayed by two weeks, for each of the houses to pick a suitable candidate for the spectacle._

_However, there are several conditions to be met for the choosing of the candidates, all of which are to be complied with;_

_**T**__he chosen candidate must be a direct member of the High House._

_**T**__he chosen candidate must be a heir of the Head of the House._

_**T**__he chosen candidate must have abilities of strength, magic, etc_.

_**C**__andidates are to be at least eleven years old._

_Failure to comply with the conditions as stated above, will result in the name of the High House to be abolished and the entire family to be banished, as well as all achievements made by the family will be revoked. We strongly suggest cooperating with such a momentous occasion, for Noxus is now entering a new era of strength, under the great leadership of the Grand General!_

_Forever Strong!_

* * *

Katarina did not know what to feel. Anger, shock, bafflement, and yes she could have chosen any of those things, but what she felt the most was nothing short of fear and dread. Swain, the slimy snake, had most certainly discovered about the presence of her son in his little chess game, somehow. But why didn't Swain just confront her outright? This was obviously bait for her, to put up her son for the city. There were no other heirs to the Du Couteau name that aren't already champions; Cassiopeia definitely did not have any children, and she was very sure that Talon, if he could even be considered as a brother, did not have any either. But if she did not comply, the entire name of the Du Couteau household would be wiped out.

Her family or her son. That was the ultimatum that Swain had given her. She did not know how Swain managed to find her son out, and she did not want to know. But there was only one thing that she could do.

Holding back tears, she tucked the letter back into the envelope and dashed through the doors of the House, ignoring the baffled workers, as she focused on a single prospect; to get back to her son.

She hopped from roof to roof, to get to the house she needed to be. She felt a terrible feeling well up in her chest when she saw the open front door, the chisel still impaled in the lock. She unsheathed her knives and crept into the house. The moment she entered she could smell the scent of blood. Usually, she would be filled with adrenaline and intent for the search for more targets, but all she felt now was terror. She ignored all forms of stealth and dashed to the source; the living room.

The sight of the dead man's body met her gaze. He was face down, with three thin daggers embedded to the hilt in his back. She bent down to feel his neck, and felt nothing. The man's ragged shirt was drenched in the blood, but the floor around him was surprisingly clean. But she didn't care. She needed to find her son.

She ran about the house, running upstairs to downstairs to the kitchen to every room, calling his name. She was close to becoming hysterical, sprinting across the second floor, searching for her son but to no avail.

*thunk thunk thunk*

She froze as she heard, albeit quiet, the sound of blades entering wood. She leapt down the stairs, to the backyard, where the wooden dummies lay. She burst through the backyard doors and instantly felt a huge wave of relief at the sight of her son, practicing his throws on a few targets.

The boy was surprised to see his mother bursting through the door. He froze in mid-throw as she approached him, sheath her dagger, knelt down to his height and touched his face, neck and waist for injuries with bloody, gloved hands.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? What happened?"

A flurry of questions came spewing, but he was still in shock in suddenly seeing his mother again. He looked into her eyes and was surprised by the amount of compassion that she held in her gaze.

"I-I'm fine…? What is wrong, Mother?"

He watched his mother breath a huge sigh.

"What's wrong? Why is there a dead man in the middle of the living room?" She asked aggressively, still feeling him for injuries.

He tried avoiding her gaze.

"…He tried to break in…and…I tried to stop him. I'm sorry that I made such a mess."

He thought that his mother would scold him, slap him, which he braced for as he saw his mother's hands swing out.

She hugged him so tightly, he felt his lungs cave in. Her arms wrapped around him, she held his head and back in her hands and relaxed.

"You did well…at least you are safe."

She released him. He looked up at his mother and saw a rare smile glow on her face. Normally, he would have expected that it was filled with contempt and pride, but all he saw in her smile was nothing like that. She smiled through her tears, a smile of pity.

"Mother…what's wrong?"

He watched as she realized what she was doing, wiped her eyes and refocused her stoic expression.

"…Nothing is wrong." She took in a deep breath. "I'll take care of him, continue your training. Take a bath later, I want to have a word with you later."

"Okay."

* * *

He watched as his mother went off. He did not notice that his shirt was stained with blood neither did he notice the knives in his pouch drop to the grassy floor. All he noticed, or rather remembered, was the love that his mother showed him in that moment. That brief moment that made him feel alive again.

And all he had to do was to kill a man.

* * *

Katarina easily took care of the burglar's body; she simply dumped him in a pit that she had originally assigned her son to dump after an execution. But even as she was filling the hole, her mind was still focused on the letter. Her son was indeed the Heir of the House of Du Couteau, taking precedence even above her own sister, Cassiopeia. She knew that her son was too weak and inexperienced to actually fight in any practical situation, although she must admit that he killing a man with such skill, at such an age, is no easy feat.

She patted down the buried dirt, stuck the shovel into the ground and headed back into the house.

She headed upstairs for a bath, changed her clothes into something more practical and re-read the letter again and again until the sounds of her son's blade throwing seemed to be more interesting. She massaged her eyes as she contemplated her next actions. Swain was obviously aware of her son's presence, but she couldn't understand what he was planning. If the people of Noxus discovered her son's heritage, no one in Valoran would accept his presence. She could only assume that Swain did not know about her son's Demacian ties. Hopefully.

The sounds of blade hitting wood silenced. She heard her son step up the stairs, heading to the bathroom to wash up. Her son was too innocent, she thought. She had thought that the frequent executions would desensitize her son to death, but she never expected him to take it all to heart. She realised sadly; he had inherited his mother's bloodlust. But she did not want to see her son become a bloodthirsty brute, neither did she want to see him become an oppressed individual without rights.

As she heard the sound of water running, she reached for a paper and quill.

_**To Talon….**_


	7. Confidant

**AN: **Rewrite of Chapter 7.

**Disclaimer: I don't own League of Legends.**

* * *

"_He's beautiful."_

_She cradled him carefully in her arms. He was just born, but even she could see the rosy cheeks, the flawless and smooth skin that he had. She had been worried, when he did not cry as he was born, but the slow systematic breaths relieved her fears. The doctor had shown some concerns about his vocals, and it burdened her heart to hear her child cry as he was held upside down. Born right on schedule, he was a perfect little boy._

_They were in a clinic, just outside of the city states. The doctor was completely unaware of their nationalities, only knowing that the woman was in labour. This was a place that their son could be safe. There was some panic when she had fallen unconscious, but everything went as smoothly as it could._

_Katarina looked up at him._

"_He is, isn't he?"_

_A smile was given in return._

"…_Can I hold him?"_

_Hesitantly, she cautiously handled the baby over to the father. His ungloved hands held him tenderly, the small child with his hands clenched into tiny fists against his body, sound asleep. He cradled him in his arms, his blue eyes cautiously watching as the baby slept his days away. His closed eyes, his bundled arms, small wisps of red hair sprouting from his scalp, he was entranced by his likeness._

"_What should we name him?"_

_The father broke from his stupor._

"…_huh?"_

"_What should we call him? Give."_

_He handed him back to her._

"…_he's taking your name, after all. Your call."_

_She looked up at him with confusion._

"_You're…not staying?"_

_He closed his eyes and shook his head._

"_I'm sorry. Take care."_

_She watched, baffled, as he walked out. So curt, so instant, just to come to watch his son being born. It made all of his previous words nothing more than lip service._

_Once she heard the door close, she hugged her child close to her chest as tears streamed down her cheeks. He opened his wide eyes and stared into hers, his shockingly blue and green pupils revealing their small dots of colour._

"_Aeneas is his name. Aeneas Du Couteau, my son."_

* * *

Talon was very, very displeased.

The moment he had received the letter from Katarina, he had made a beeline to the house. He could see all of the traces of a fight when he got there; the broken lock, the smell of dried blood on the wood, the scratch marks on the floor that indicated the dragging of a body. Katarina had received him at the corridor and put him at the dining room table. He didn't bring it up with her; he could sense that something else was on her mind.

His legs propped up on the table, he was in de-armoured attire with a simple banded-down white shirt with jeans and a let-down hood, but his ever-present wristblade still attached to his right arm, being sharpened by his left. He could hear the sounds that played above him, mumblings, at most, but clearly the sound of Katarina speaking to another. There was another person in the house.

He watched as the two redheads descended from the stairs. The duo of mother and son sat at the seats opposite of him, beside each other. The redheaded boy kept his head down low while Katarina fidgeted in both annoyance and anxiety.

"I assume that you didn't write the letter to talk about changing guard shifts." Talon began, halting the whetstone.  
"So," he gave a warped smirk. "who's the kid?"  
Katarina breathed in deeply.  
"The reason why I had asked you to come is that...as you can see." Katarina motioned over to Aeneas. "I need a confidant. And a favor."  
"Why now? You seem quite well off for...what, ten years?" Talon said.  
"Fourteen."  
"Fourteen." Talon repeated. "Fourteen. Fourteen bloody years keeping your little kid away from all of us."  
"And why would you care?!" Katarina spat out, slamming her hands on the table. "You couldn't give two shits about the House!"  
"True, but at least I care of Master's image." He gave a glance to Aeneas, who avoided his gaze. "Do you know what kind of backlash he would cause?!"  
"I-"  
"The newest and youngest heir to the Du Couteau family. The fucking bastard child of Noxus and Demacia- how in the name of everything did you think that it was a good idea?!"

Talon slammed the whetstone onto the desk.  
"Believe me, sister, I really couldn't give a damn about your Noxian status."  
He brandished his armblade.  
"But this house is Master's life. If your little mistake threatens to kill it, then I will take care of the issue...**myself.**"

Katarina glared at him.  
"Is that a threat?" she said, with a voice laced with deceptive softness.  
"No." he replied simply, lowering his blade. "My point is; what you have right beside you right now can either make or break this house."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Think about it." he swung his free hand at the child sarcastically. "The heir of two rival families that are just as esteemed in their countries as each other; you can either make peace with them or you're gonna have a clusterfuck on your hands."  
"I'm sorry...?"  
"I don't know what kind of agreements you had with the father, but I'm pretty sure when Demacia finds out about this they're not going to be as passive. Even more if Noxus wishes to hold up their image."

Katarina bit her bottom lip. She still had no inkling of Talon's stance on the matter, but his words rang true.  
"They won't find out about him."  
"And how will you do that?" Talon scoffed with a smile. "The House has to send a direct heir, no?"  
Katarina twitched and gave him a sharp look.  
"Spare me the questions, sister. The whole of Noxus knows. The direct heir of the Head of each House is to be sent next month to fight each other for the pride of the House. Either that, or the House is loses its title, correct?"  
_"That, and we'll be banished..." _Katarina thought to herself, but withheld her tongue.  
Talon brandished his armblade again. "And as I said, there's no way I'm allowing your sudden weakness to kill what your father had built."

Talon relaxed, crossing his free arm over the flat end of the blade.

"Well, now that's out of the way, what favor did you want?"

Katarina held her head straight, but she felt the weight of her skull pulling her down. From the corner of her eye, she saw her stoic son trembling. While his face gave off a stern disposition, she could see his true emotions reflect in his eyes. The poor kid was terrified, for good reason; he never had any outside contact besides her. But she knew, from the little bit of training that she gave him, that her son was far more than what people would see him as. She took in a deep breath and calmed herself. From what she could deduce from Talon's responses, it seemed that he was willing to safeguard the secret, at least for the time being. She swallowed and stared straight into Talon's eyes.

"I want you to train him."


	8. Zaun Part 1: Wandering

**AN: **Rewrite of Chapter 8.

**Disclaimer: I don't own League of Legends, Riot games do.**

* * *

His thin, lean form staggered through the somewhat crowded streets of Zaun, under his cloak he gripped his abdomen as the pangs of hunger shot through him. Ducking into a nearby alleyway, he hastily undid one of the belts that tied down his thigh and unsheathed three blades, which he then sheathed into his pouch. He then had the leeway to crouch, pulling up his hood as he tentatively bit into a loaf of bread. He had forgotten that he had not eaten since they had left for Zaun, which he now sorely regretted. His left eye twitched, a bad habit of his since his nightmares had left him somewhat sleep-deprived, as he remembered his "Uncle's" words before leaving him to wander in his current state.

_"I have things to do here first, so go wander along and get back to the inn around the evening," _Talon had said with a emotionless look. _"Don't get hurt."_

"Don't get hurt, he says." Aeneas grumbled, finishing his loaf and standing back up, leaning tiredly against the side wall. His stony face betrayed no emotion, but under his façade he was utterly terrified. He knew he was sheltered, far away from the terrors of the outside world, but such a sudden displacement from his warm bed to this cesspool of uncontrolled techmaturgy, had shocked him. The only thing that kept him from shivering on the ground uncontrollably is the thought of Katarina, the memory of her parting words when they had left for Zaun.

He cleaned his hands of crumbs with a few pats before pulling up his hood again, rejoining the sizeable crowd that was now moving through the streets like ants. He made sure to keep his face hidden as he melded into the wall of people, keeping his pouch close, as Talon had advised him. As he moved through the greyish air, he was intrigued by the strangeness of this place, people with strange accessories and bionics that seemed straight out of a fairy tale. His blood boiled with excitement as he picked up the pace.

Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

* * *

_**Four hours ago**_

_"Are you kidding me?" Talon replied, letting out a scoff._  
_"I am completely serious." Katarina replied._  
_"I am no teacher, Kat. All I learned is from your father, which I believe to be much lesser than what you had learnt." Talon rebutted, showing no rise or fall in his tone but had forgotten his armblade._  
_"But he is not me. It will be better if he learnt from someone more suitable."_  
_"He looks weaker than an ant!" Talon burst out. "He doesn't even look fit to handle a butter knife!"_  
_Aeneas looked away, hiding his crestfallen eyes._  
_"Don't judge him by his looks," Katarina said, a small knowing smile forcing its way through her mask of stoicism. "You have no idea what he can do."_  
_Talon snorted, standing up and pointing his armblade at the young boy, eliciting a surprised flinch from both mother and son._  
_"All right then," he began, his scowl turning into a mischievous smirk. "If he's so good, why don't I test him?"_

_Katarina's smile melted off her face, placing an arm between her son and the blade._  
_"You can't be serious."_  
_"I am as serious as you, sister." Talon remarked coolly. "How can I believe your claims if I don't see it for myself?"_  
_"He is a child!"_  
_"A child that has killed over a hundred." He rolled his eyes at Katarina's confusion. "Don't play the fool. Civilians have been reporting of prominent opposition figureheads to Swain missing ever since you came back, and as far as I know no other House has the same modus as us." Talon said, a mischievous smirk full bloom. "Come on, it'll be fun."_  
_"I will not-"_

_"Mother..."_

_Katarina looked at her son with a bit too much aggression, but his mismatched eyes burned with a determination that she had never seen before._  
_"Aeneas-"_  
_"Please let me spar with him, Mother."_  
_"Why-"_  
_"I will not let anyone talk like that about your integrity like that! Please, let me!"_  
_His hands were already on the sheaths on his back, knives ready to draw._

_Katarina swapped looks with the two._  
_Talon cracked his neck with a jerk to the left. "Don't worry, I won't hurt him. Much."_  
_Katarina looked at Aeneas, whose eyes burned with anger and pleaded with an innocence of a child._  
_"Please, Mother. I want to prove myself."_  
_Katarina scowled and retracted her arm, pointing to the backyard._  
_"Have your idiotic fight then. Don't expect me to save you if he goes too far."_  
_Aeneas nodded and obediently headed for the back door._

_Talon withdrew his armblade, his bloodlust softening as Aeneas closed the door behind him._  
_"I won't kill him. A few broken bones, perhaps. Just to teach him a bit."_  
_"...so you'll do it?"_  
_Talon approached and patted her shoulder._  
_"Eh, why not. He seems pretty weak, but look at how you turned out, hm? Heh."_  
_Katarina remained stoic as Talon gave a mockingly cheerful smirk while walking past her._  
_"I know what you said, but feel free to save him if I accidentally go too far though, otherwise you might need to meet with the father again."_  
_Katarina gave Talon a hard look._  
_"Oh, that wasn't for him. That was for you."_

_Talon chuckled as he strode out the door, with Katarina giving a knowing look before heading outside as well._

* * *

Aeneas took careful steps through the crowds, making sure that none of them stepped on his shoes. Strange, he thought. The air seemed to have thinned. He kept his cloak close to himself as he ducked back into another alleyway, pressing himself against the wall as his breathing became faster. His head throbbed, aching with a pain that he never felt before. He barely noticed the two incoming shadows that approached from his left, from within the shadows of the alley. He shifted his sight to see the look of two men, dressed in rags, each holding a rusty blade in their hands.

"Well, well...who do we have here?"  
"Looks pretty fat, Mitch!"  
The larger one, the one called Mitch, smirked while brandishing the rusted knife in a way that disgusted him.  
"Aye. So...what'dya have under those robes of'yours, boy?"

He smelled their stench, a terrible mix of rubbish and biological waste. But he smelled another thing; a thing that he realised was to blame for the thinning.

His right eye twitched once more, a warning to all near him. This was the worst possible time.

"HEY! He asked'cha a fucking question!"

He didn't hear him. His head were on fire, his chest threatening to burst out. He slouched against the wall, barely keeping himself up to prevent impaling himself on his own blades.

"Last chance, brat."

"Dont...come...near..."

The thugs licked their lips as they drew their knives, lunging at him.

"TEACH THIS FUCKING DOG A LESSON!"

* * *

_Talon prepared his stance, as did his nephew. With a smirk, Talon brandished his armblade, which seemed out of place without his full attire._

* * *

He saw them coming.

* * *

_Aeneas prepared himself, ignoring the twitching in his left eye._

* * *

Two slabs of meat, staggering over to the butcher's table.

* * *

_"Ready?" said his mother. Talon gave a small nod as he readied his blades._

* * *

It was exactly like that time.

* * *

_But he did not hear her._

* * *

The very first time he killed a man with a real face.

* * *

_"No hitting the face, privates or neck!" Katarina warned, but he did not hear that either._

* * *

Not an execution, like he was used to, but a man, sneaking into **HIS **house.

* * *

_The pain grew inside his head._

* * *

His sight went white as his brain switched off, the bloodlust completely taking over as his now mindless body stood up, both pupils turning viridescent as he pulled off his hood.

* * *

_"Begin!"_

* * *

The two thugs froze as he, no; it, revealed its eerily white teeth in its overbearingly broken smile.

* * *

_That was the one thing that he heard._

* * *

It opened its cloak, the gleam of tens of knives under his bands reflecting the lights of the streets.

* * *

_That was the last thing he remembered, before everything went white._

* * *

"Please," it spoke, his full jade green pupils shining with malice.

* * *

_"Die."_


	9. Zaun Part 2: The Fourth Blademaster

**AN: **Rewrite of Chapter 9.

**Disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends.**

* * *

_When his sight cleared, Aeneas found his face pushed against the ground with his arms manhandled onto his back, effectively restraining him as he got a face full of dirt. Exhausted, he forced his sight upwards, expecting the cocky face of his 'uncle' with a mass of contempt, but was surprised as the redhead he knew as his mother stared at him with a hard combination of shock and worry. He felt his left pupil contract as he barely made out his question.  
"M-M-Mother?"  
"...You back to yourself?" She asked, her grip still strong as iron.  
"I-I don't understand..."  
"I'll take that as a yes." Katarina let out a deep breath as she released him, letting him get up._

_Katarina watched as her son dusted himself off, wiping his dirtied face with the back of his hand. She watched as the crumbs of gravel were swept off his unblemished skin, not a single wound scarring the surface. Her eyes remained focused on Aeneas' stoic face, whose childlike innocence had returned with his mismatched eyes gazing with a clear look of confusion. But she only had one thought on her mind;_

_How did he not bleed a single drop?_

_Aeneas glanced at her with a look of curiosity, before noticing the intensity of her gaze.  
"Mother? What's wrong?"  
Katarina blinked a few times.  
"Do you know what you had been doing?"  
Aeneas looked at her confusedly.  
"Um...I was...sparring? With...uh..."  
His eyes widened.  
"Uncle, right? Where is he?"  
Katarina gave her son a look.  
"...Do you even remember?"  
Aeneas slowly shook his head, absent-mindedly pushing his fringe to the right._

* * *

_Katarina knew there was something wrong the moment she saw them spar. Talon hadn't even considered Aeneas a threat, which was obvious from his lacklustre stance. His technique with his armblade had been shoddy and his stance so unbalanced, standing incredibly straight as if mocking him. But Aeneas was different. Katarina hadn't taught him anything about real-life fighting, mainly letting him execute political targets that she had brought back and teaching him basic throwing techniques, so she had been relying on Talon's promise to not wound him too badly. But Aeneas had a proper stance; legs spread apart, one dagger in each hand that seemed sharpened, his eyes focusing on nothing more than the person in front of him. She had not taught him that. Actually, she had not taught him much of anything._

_But what convinced her that she had to step in soon was the moment her son disappeared._

_For a full 5 seconds, in a flash of red, Aeneas disappeared into thin air. Talon had not thought much of it, thinking that she had taught him that. He gave her a cheeky look that soon evaporated when the image of confusion escaped from her usually stoic façade. But before he could switch into a proper stance Aeneas appeared behind him in a flash of blue, both knives aimed for Talon's throat._

_Talon instinctively swung his armblade to parry, but swung at air. Aeneas pivoted himself over Talon's head, landing and swinging his left blade upwards, aiming for Talon's chest. Talon gave a small gasp before leaping backwards, his heel digging into the dirt.  
"Wait what-"  
Aeneas did not give Talon time to recover as he leapt at him, who Talon led to aim at Aeneas with a downward swing of his armblade, before Aeneas disappeared into thin air again. Talon turned behind him, predicting Aeneas' reappearance but instead running his face right into Aeneas' kick. Talon had not expected such a strong kick and was thrown back even further, his sight flashing with white._

_Katarina was absolutely astonished by the way her son was manoeuvring around Talon. Talon had made a terrible mistake letting down his guard; he was now being hit with a barrage that made her proud, in a way. She could see exactly where he was at any time, which was what her Shunpo had granted her, but Talon could not. She could also see that while Aeneas seemed to be carrying out her trademark ability to a skill of some degree, he was being far more aggressive than what she was used to seeing._

_Far, far more aggressive._

_Aeneas stood away from Talon, who he now let him recover as he reformed his stance. Talon snapped his jaw to the left, relocating it, and gave Aeneas a dark look.  
"Alright, brat. No more mister nice-"  
He stopped mid-sentence, his look evaporating as he saw the bright white smile that was plastered beneath Aeneas' glowing green eyes. While Talon was used to such a sight on targets and enemies alike (coughshacocough), the sight of his 'nephew' somehow gave him an off feeling that he hadn't felt since Master Du Couteau spared him._

_He froze in place as Aeneas disappeared again. This feeling was parallel to what he felt that day, the day he had been mastered. The terrible feeling of dread as he stared down the glistening metal that could have ended his life, then and there._

_He then knew that if he did not fight back, he would die._

_He twisted his body backwards while tossing out his raking blades, which missed as Aeneas pivoted his body over Talon's head again, his blades aiming for the nape of Talon's neck._

* * *

Ekko walked down the empty alleyways, humming a tune while swinging his (stolen) clock hand, 'patrolling' down the connected alleyways. His parents had just left for their jobs in the Zaunite factories, meaning that he had plenty of free time for his 'job'.

He flinched as his arm twinged with pain, an injury sustained from his 'meeting' with one of the minions that he had beaten a few days ago. He had regretted rewinding when the memory wall had been destroyed, but he knew that he had to. He owed that to Ajuna. And maybe Vi and Jinx. Probably. But he didn't mind fighting too much, hiding the Vigilnaut's body was harder.

He kicked a stone into a nearby puddle and swung his clock hand unto his shoulders as he reminisced about his former gang. The bunch of misfits, living in the streets of Zaun, having each other's company. His heart clenched as he remembered them; stealing, playing, sparring together, everyone looking out for the other. A band of misfits, sure, but all their own special little snowflakes.

He gave a sad smile. Well, at least he still sees Jinx and Vi every now and again, which had been one of his main reasons for being a vigilante. The littlest interaction, whether it is as enemies or allies, it was heart-warming to see his old friends again. He sped up his pace, feeling a bit bored as he turned a corner.

He froze in his tracks as the cloaked figure, slumped against the wall, behind the bodies of two dead Zaunite thugs lying facedown, eighteen daggers in each of their backs.

* * *

_Talon was kicked in the chest once again, spitting up his fifth mouthful of blood as he slammed into the opposite fence. His armblade had been disarmed from him and was now lying who-knows-where, his razorrangs were gone, his sides bleeding terribly. Aeneas had landed five slashes onto him, three throwing knives and six kicks. But if he hadn't evaded most of them, he might have received even more. He slid down the picket as the shadow of his 'nephew' walked sinisterly towards him, his unblemished and unwounded skin an insult to everything he ever stood for. His white smile still plastered on his face, Aeneas skilfully spun the blades in his hands as he prepared his final blow._

_"KATARINA!"_

_She would have jumped in sooner, but she had been so captivated by her son's knife-work she took a few seconds. Reaching for her son, she grabbed him in the midst of his leap and pivoted her body around, pulling on his left arm and pushing him to the floor. Even though he was fast, she knew he was still very weak even when compared to her own. She was fully automatic, casting aside her love for her son and stamping on his back, pushing his head to the ground. It had been the first time she felt no joy in doing it, no reason other than to save her brother.  
"Can you walk?" she had asked Talon, ignoring the weak protests of her captive.  
Talon nodded weakly, standing up while holding his abdomen as he limped away, leaving an obvious red stain on the picket fence as he picked up his armblade on the way back to the house._

_Once she heard the clasp of the door, she looked down at her son, whose right arm was convulsed and was flailing it wildly. She stood firm as his protests stopped slowly, eventually stopping completely. But Katarina did not yield. She wanted to see this for herself, the one thing that she had loved ever since her father and his father left, for fourteen years, turned into a killing machine that not even Talon could beat._

_She then stood firm underneath the Noxian sky, waiting for her son to wake up again._

* * *

Ekko crept over to the thugs, readying his club as he checked their pulses. Once he felt nothing, he used it to push them aside underneath a pile of black trash. No one would miss them, he thought, as he approached the cloaked figure. Once he came closer he noticed two things; he looked as small and frail as a child and that he was shivering. Very much so. The hood still pulled over his head, he could just barely see the bright red hair that crept underneath the hood.  
"Hey, you alright?" he tentatively asked, his eyes glancing at the Z-Drive on his left hand.  
He received no response.  
"...Yo, anyone home?"  
Again the lack of response.

He thought of prodding the cloaked guy with his clock hand, but he thought better of it. This guy looked no more than a kid, but he was obviously the one who took out the two thugs, which means that he must be at least a little dangerous. He ducked down to eye level to see glazed green pupils, staring at the ground while muttering unclear words. He was hugging his knees to his chest, but in his left hand held a bloody dagger, which made him looked more deranged than helpless. But what caught Ekko's eye was the small puddle of blood on his right side, which had been hidden by his body. The kid must had been stabbed somewhere.

He then reached out for the hood and pulled it off.


	10. Zaun Part 3: The Boy who Shattered Time

**AN: **Rewrite of Chapter 10.

**Disclaimer: I don't own League of Legends.**

* * *

Leaping from each dilapidated roof to the next, Talon made sure to mask his footsteps to avoid arousing detection. As he landed on both feet on a rusted roof, he winced in pain, forcing him to get down on a knee to suppress the urge to spit up his lunch. Katarina's brat had done a good number on him back at the house, and now he regretted taking him lightly. If Katarina hadn't stopped them, he guessed that he might have lost a limb or two. He cupped the stiches at his sides as they blasted with pain, biting back a curse. They had been forced to leave Aeneas at the house while dragging him to a nearby clinic to patch him up, which he admitted that he could have, went with more grace. He had to swallow all his pride to say that he had sustained his injuries from a 'sparring session' between him and Katarina. The doctor had been suspicious of the completely unwounded Katarina, but he made short work of the cuts and they were out of there before anyone could notice.

They had come to Zaun to escape from the public eye; a place where no son of a noble would ever be expected to be. Zaun was the cesspool that acted as the Yin to Piltover's Yang, the one place that no one ever actively wanted to be in. A place where the underground rules, knives embedded permanently in everyone's backs, the rich today to the poor tomorrow, Zaun was known as one of the worst places in Valoran. Which is precisely why he had let Aeneas, a sheltered eleven year old without any knowledge of the world's evils, roam alone in the streets of this place. The kid had talent; their spar had already shown that. What he needed was good ole'fashioned experience on the ground. Get conned a little, roughed up here and there, and stab a few backs. Who knows, he might accidentally stab a few of his own.

He took in a deep breath as the pain dissipated, before standing up again. He couldn't get distracted right now. Regardless of his injuries, he had a mission to complete. After all, he hadn't come to Zaun just for training his 'nephew', that would be way too extreme just for the extent of avoiding the public eye. Oh, no. He wasn't here on official leave; he was here on an order. Coincidentally, together with Katarina's letter, he had received a letter from the Noxian High Command, Zaunite Emissary Branch. He didn't even bother reading before he came to Zaun; the blood red letters signifying an assassination order. In the letter was only a single picture.

He reached into his uniform and pulled out the picture again, the shiny surface reflecting the image of a dark-skinned face with an obvious white tattoo of an hourglass over his face, a cocky smirk staring straight into the camera.

* * *

"Hey, kid. Wake up!"

Aeneas' eyes slowly opened. Ekko was at eye level with him, flinching at the sight of his mismatched eyes. His hood was off, revealing his entire head. His addled mind didn't register Ekko at first, blinking rapidly with glazed eyes, before his pupils widened at the dark-skinned vigilante. He shot to his feet, pressing his back against the wall as Ekko stepped back as well.

"You alright?"  
Aeneas stayed silent, holding his head low.

Aeneas slowly nodded.  
"Ah, okay then." Ekko craned his neck to the right, checking the bloody stain on the cloak at his side. "You alright over there?"  
Aeneas gave him a look of confusion.  
"...there?"  
Ekko pointed at the stain with the clock hand.

Aeneas looked down his right, and widened his pupils in horror as he ripped off his cloak, revealing the disembodied heart that he clutched in his right hand.

* * *

Ekko backed off slightly, surprised at the revelation. The kid wasn't wounded at all. On the contrary, actually. With very slight movements, his left hand reached behind him as he pulled the chain of his Z-Drive, the hourglass whirring to life. He observed the kid's actions; it wasn't the movement of a trained killer, it was the movement of a simple kid. He watched as Aeneas tossed the heart away, a comically horrified look on his face as he rubbed his palms on his cloak with frightened shrieks and incredibly fast breathing.

"...what the heck did you do?"  
Aeneas seemed to not hear him, focused on cleaning his hands.  
"Hey, dude. Talking to you?" Aeneas looked up at him. "You got something to do with those two over there?"  
He pointed with the clock hand over to the two crudely hidden bodies, looking more intoxicated than dead.  
"N-No!" Aeneas shook his head rapidly, a terrified look growing on his face. "I-I have no idea what happened!"

Ekko watched as Aeneas shivered, hugging himself while sliding down the wall. He had seen plenty of victims in his life; this kid was definitely one. He seemed close to tearing up; there seemed to be no way that this kid, on the verge of tears, could have done such a gruesome job. He glanced over to the bloody heart, which lay a few steps into the alley where it was thrown.

The whirring of the Z-Drive calmed as Ekko spotted the gleam of metal strapped underneath Aeneas forearms, which had originally been hidden by the darkness of the alleyway and the cloak. This kid was acting. No way is it normal for a kid, that looked 2 years younger than him, to have so many knives strapped to his body like a Noxian.

_"Noxian?"_

In one fell swoop, Ekko held the clock hand overhead before bringing it down onto Aeneas' head. Just before contact, he saw the pupils in Aeneas' eyes glisten and right eye twitch, and soon realised that he had hit nothing but air. He swung his body backwards, slashing behind him and parrying Aeneas' kick. He repeatedly disappeared and reappeared, every kick or slash being parried by Ekko's prediction. But he was relentless, and eventually got a good kick at Ekko's left temple. Ekko staggered back, his clock hand dropping to the floor as Aeneas reappeared in front of him. His vision was blurry, but he could see the red-haired boy with a white crescent painted on his face, more importantly the glistening metal blades that he held in his hands. He knew that he couldn't recover fast enough to parry any attack Aeneas could throw at him, so he decided on another alternative.

"Do-over!"

He twisted the knob on his arm, disappearing in a flash of blue light as he watched the fight repeat in backwards in front of him.

In one fell swoop, Ekko held the clock hand overhead before bringing it down onto Aeneas' head. Just before contact, he saw the pupils in Aeneas' eyes glisten and right eye twitch, and soon realised that he had hit nothing but air. He swung his body backwards, slashing behind him and parrying Aeneas' kick. He repeatedly disappeared and reappeared, every kick or slash being parried by Ekko's prediction. _"1.6 seconds to impact." _He blocked the strangely powerful kick as he attempted to whack Aeneas on his side, but he soon disappeared. He turned round to feel his jaw cave in at Aeneas' back kick, sending him to the ground and the clock hand to the side. He felt his jaw crack once again as Aeneas reappeared in front of him. His vision was blurry, but he could see the red-haired boy with a white crescent painted on his face, more importantly the glistening metal blades that he held in his hands. He knew that he couldn't recover fast enough to parry any attack Aeneas could throw at him, so he decided on another alternative.

"Do-over!"

He twisted the knob on his arm, disappearing in a flash of blue light as he watched the fight repeat in backwards in front of him. He snapped his jaw back into place.

In one fell swoop, Ekko held the clock hand overhead before bringing it down onto Aeneas' head. Just before contact, he saw the pupils in Aeneas' eyes glisten and right eye twitch, and soon realised that he had hit nothing but air. He swung his body backwards, slashing behind him and parrying Aeneas' kick. He repeatedly disappeared and reappeared, every kick or slash being parried by Ekko's prediction. _"1.6 seconds to impact." _He blocked the strangely powerful kick as he attempted to whack Aeneas on his side, but he soon disappeared. _"1.7 seconds to impact." _He ducked as he turned round, sending the back kick flying above him as he aimed an upwards strike with the clock hand, but once again met nothing but air. His upwards movement cost him as he felt an elbow strike his spine, forcing him to drop his weapon as he felt his bones shake. He slammed against the opposite wall, coughing up a good mouthful of blood as his vision blurred. His vision was blurry, but he could see the red-haired boy with a white crescent painted on his face, more importantly the glistening metal blades that he held in his hands. He knew that he couldn't recover fast enough to parry any attack Aeneas could throw at him, so he decided on another alternative.

"Do-over!"

He twisted the knob on his arm, disappearing in a flash of blue light as he watched the fight repeat in backwards in front of him. He snapped his jaw back into place and spat out a mouthful of blood.

In one fell swoop, Ekko held the clock hand overhead before bringing it down onto Aeneas' head. Just before contact, he saw the pupils in Aeneas' eyes glisten and right eye twitch, and soon realised that he had hit nothing but air. He swung his body backwards, slashing behind him and parrying Aeneas' kick. He repeatedly disappeared and reappeared, every kick or slash being parried by Ekko's prediction. _"1.6 seconds to impact." _He blocked the strangely powerful kick as he attempted to whack Aeneas on his side, but he soon disappeared. _"1.7 seconds to impact." _He ducked as he turned round, sending the back kick flying above him as he aimed an upwards strike with the clock hand, but once again met nothing but air. _"0.8 seconds to impact." _Instinctively, Ekko spun round, letting the elbow fly in front of him before aiming a strike at the back of Aeneas' open neck. Praying hard that it would connect, he swung the bludgeon with all his might. Right before his eyes, Aeneas disappeared, causing his swing to take out a huge chunk of the wall in front of him. Worn out, he could do nothing as he felt the weight on his back as he crashed to the ground. He could barely see his club kicked away from his grasp as a knife pierced through his left hand. Screaming in pain, he felt a cold wind as Aeneas pulled the blade from his hand, flipped him skywards and locked his knees around his waist as Aeneas prepared his final strike. His left hand exploding with pain, Ekko finally realised his mistake. The shining white slasher-smile on Aeneas face shivered as Ekko raised his right hand to his teeth and bit the knob.

"DO...OVER!"

He twisted the knob on his arm, disappearing in a flash of blue light as he watched the fight repeat in backwards in front of him. He collapsed to the ground in front of Aeneas, not bothering to fix his jaw or the blood in his mouth.

* * *

"Argh!"

Aeneas looked up at the sound. The dark-skinned teen in front of him was on his knees and holding his left hand, the oddly-shaped club lying on the floor. Strange, he thought, he wasn't this damaged before. He seemed out of breath, too. He thought about going over to check on him, but he thought against it. In his eleven years, he had never had any form of contact with anyone his mother did not introduce to him. His uncle, his mother, these two were the only people he had ever communicated with, if it could even be called 'communication'.

Then he saw the blood.

Ekko was lying against the opposite wall, his right hand cupping the blood that dripped from his left. To the normal man, he looked in pain, in need of pity. But to Aeneas' eyes, he saw something else. It leaked from every pore of Ekko's body. A drug that only affected him, the pain of the masses that awakened the demon residing within him. He would have noticed the fighting spirit that shrouded Ekko's body earlier, but it seemed to have come out of the blue. He didn't sense any form of hostility when he first encountered him, but the sudden shroud of adrenaline that Ekko had pumping through his veins penetrated Aeneas' innocent disposition.

He felt it. Something boiling inside of his chest, an urge of absolute red and black.

He needed to.

He wanted to.

His eye twitched rapidly, both eyes turning jade green as he stood up from his stupor. Ekko did not notice as Aeneas stood up. Walking slowly towards the The Boy Who Shattered Time, Aeneas smoothly unsheathed the blade from underneath his forearm.

* * *

_**Noxus**_

Katarina leaned against the windowsill, staring out into the gloomy landscape of Noxus. Her face was stoic, her poise stern, but underneath it she was wrought with worry. She should not have let Talon bring Aeneas to Zaun, she should not had let them go alone. But deep in her heart she knew that it was for the best; Swain's game gave her no choice but to play. Against the other High Houses of Noxus, Aeneas would need as much skill and practice than ever, under the formal training of a talented blademaster. But Talon should be enough.

She wanted to follow them, she thought. She wanted to take the small chances of leave she had worked so hard to earn and go with them. But she couldn't. Swain wouldn't allow it; it was obvious from his letter that he wanted Katarina to show her son's prowess. He wouldn't give a single chance for them to escape. She took in a deep breath as she watched the green flames rise from the faraway capital. For eleven years, she had hidden her beloved son from the system; to avoid the definite exploitation of Swain and Darius. She remembered the promise she had made when **he **had left them in the hospital. She promised that she would never ever let her son be used, to be taken advantage of. She promised to protect him to her very last breath.

And protect him she shall.

She stepped away from the window and headed for the door, taking her time to relock the door. She would protect him to the last breath.

"Firstly..." she muttered, unsheathing her blades from their places.

"...the House of Esprit."


	11. Zaun Part 4: Heir of the House

**AN:** Rewrite of Chapter 11.

**Disclaimer: I don't own the League of Legends, which is property of Riot Games.**

* * *

Aeneas froze.

His entire frame shivered as he held the blade in his hand. In front of him, Ekko was bent over in pain, the blood steadily dripping down his fingers. The unfamiliar sensation of hesitation wracked his mind, staggering back as he sheathed the blade back into its holder to free up his hands. His eye slowed its twitching, his breathing slowing as his left pupil relaxed, turning back into its azure hue.

_"What was that?"_

He massaged his nose bridge, clenching his teeth as a bolt of pain shot through his head. Blinking rapidly, he wiped the sweat from his brow and looked down at Ekko. The adrenaline-filled aura had dissipated, leaving Aeneas with a oddly cold feeling. He remembered it when he had sparred with Talon; his vision going red as his face contorted, his body not moving as it should. His body would be on autopilot, which he discovered a disturbingly fatal trend whenever his body does. He saw Ekko glancing upwards at him. Aeneas eyes widened in worry as he felt the growing atmosphere around him, his eye beginning to twitch, but died down as Ekko spluttered out a question

"Wh-Where did you learn how to fight like that?"  
Aeneas furrowed his brow and gave him a look that told him that he had no idea of what Ekko was talking about.  
Ekko forced his jaw back into place and spat out the mouthful of red froth to the side.  
"I mean-ARGH!"  
In the midst of his sentence, Ekko gave a weak attempt to stand but soon fell back down the wall, his back wracked with pain. Coupled with his hand wound, he feared the worse wounds he would have taken if he had continued the fight.  
"Agh...dammit."

Watching the scene play out in front of him, Aeneas decided that he shouldn't stay any longer; the dreary grey sky was getting darker and the lights of the streets had brightened up. He turned away, picked up his cloak and began his departure, but paused and pondered about the wounded teen in the alley. Aeneas now knew that he should avoid alleyways at all cost; it was filled with thieves and robbers that might hurt themselves. His conscience protested animatedly in his mind; he couldn't just leave Ekko alone in that alleyway, wounded and unable to defend himself.

Reaching into his pouch, he searched through the contents, pulled out a rolled-up bandage with gauze, and plucked a small vial of clear liquid from the pouch, before placing them on the floor on a handkerchief in front of Ekko.

He didn't wait for thanks as he sped off, melting into the darkness of Zaun with quiet footsteps.

* * *

Ekko watched as the kid ran off. He took a double take at the medicine and bandage in front of him. So, he wasn't out for blood; he was just in the wrong place, wrong time. He scoffed. It wasn't that he hated Noxians; he just knew the basic corrupted mindset that got him a few knives in the back. The kid was definitely Noxian, his fighting style was too much of a pointer towards an assassin's.

And his eyes. His green, glowing eyes that leaked of dark malice, that was no normal kid. But what got his attention the most was his hair. A scarlet, wispy red that capped his scalp. The kid's soft features, slim frame and thin red hair of Noxian descent, it was almost too obvious that he was the son of a certain spinning red-head.

He looked at the pristine white bandages and medicine on the floor, tentatively picking them up.

Pulling off his ruined glove, he winced as he bit off the cork of the vial. He gnashed his teeth together, working through the sudden sting of pain as the medicine seeped into the wound...and dripped through onto the floor. Draining the bloody liquid with a bit of gauze, he pressed the rest of the stack onto both his palm and the back of his hand, ensuring that no blood seeped through, before tightly rolling the roller bandage around his hand and tying the end with his teeth. While the pain of his wounds were still there, the strange medicine had dulled it from a stinging hole of flesh into an dull ache. He couldn't flex his fingers, of course, but he felt no pain from trying.

After spending a few more moments on the ground, he slowly picked himself up, put the empty vial into his bag, held the clock hand with his unhurt hand, and carried on to his way home.

* * *

_**Noxus**_

Katarina marched through the streets of Noxus, twirling her blades nonchalantly as she scouted her surroundings.  
_"Röland Street...around 5 blocks from here."_  
Sheathing her blades, she hopped to a ladder against one of the walls. She quickly scaled the rungs and hopped silently onto the roof, before carrying on to leap from roof to roof.

* * *

_**Four and a half hours ago...**_

_"Bracket fight?"_

_Katarina gave a small nod.  
"Between the 5 Houses of Noxus, you will fight the other heirs."  
Aeneas cocked his head in confusion.  
"...5 Houses of Noxus?"  
Katarina rolled her eyes.  
"Ok, since your uncle is waiting for us, I'll make this quick."  
She crouched down to his level and held up 5 fingers.  
"We live in Noxus, as the House of Du Couteau. You know that, right?"  
Aeneas blinked dazedly.  
"We are a House?"  
"Yes. We are one; serving the main government as their...executioners."  
She let down her thumb.  
"Okay..."  
Katarina gave him a sharp look, causing him to flinch, and she raised four fingers.  
"However, there are 4 others that have the same status as we do;"_

_"The House of Esprit; the ones who manages the media,"  
Katarina pulled down her index finger.  
"The House of Cerveau; who rules over the mob,"  
Katarina pulled down her middle finger.  
"The House of Talros; which commandeers the army,"  
She pulled down her ring finger.  
"And the House of La Fierte...our rival."  
She balled her hand into a fist._

_Aeneas blinked rapidly.  
"O-Okay...what am I supposed to do?"  
Katarina stood upright and gave him an icy look.  
"The Houses have put up a challenge with the direct heirs of each House for bracket fights." Katarina brushed aside her fringe. "Which of course counts as us."  
"...uh..."  
Katarina gave exasperatedly sighed and pointed at him._

_"I am the Head of the House. You are our heir."_

_Katarina watched as Aeneas' eyes widened, his mouth agape._

_"B-But why do I have to-"_

_Katarina waved his question off._

_"We've wasted enough time." She walked over to the door and beckoned him out._

_"Come on, let's go introduce you."_

* * *

Katarina silently landed on the roof opposite to the House of Esprit. The 'House' was more of a chapel, in fact. The front of the building had four stained-glass windows that exemplified a person in each shot; an man dressed in a maroon suit standing solemnly with sword in hand, a woman dressed in the same shade of maroon holding a cane to the side, a somewhat shorter young woman with once again the same shade of purple as her uniform and cowl and the last being the abstract art of the family crest of an eye gouged upon a spike on a pedestal. Personally, she didn't care much about the Esprit family. They were in charge of working behind the scenes in promoting Swain's public image. To such a regard, they were advisers, not fighters, preferring to use the other families to handle critics or revolutionaries around the city. They were relatively new; the family had been set up barely a ten days ago. She had made them her first stop mostly out of ensuring that underhanded tactics would not cause their heir to win before they even enter the ring, but also because of a certain article that Xelmoc Esprit had released that caused an annoyingly large crowd outside of the Du Couteau main household.

Using her retractable telescope that she had...borrowed during one of her espionage missions in Bilgewater, she peered through one of the clearer windows to the side. The blurry image betrayed nothing but light and shadows of people, moving between the candlelight and the wall. In the quiet streets of Noxus, she couldn't hear a single sound; they were obviously not training. Keeping the scope, she rappelled down the building with one of the free ropes at the edge and slid over to the stone staircase. Even from where she stood, she managed to identify five different security measures; two Zaun Prototype III cameras; one revolving around the courtyard on a pole, one barely missing Katarina, two Piltover Identity-Tracking Vibratium turrets just beside the doors (who knows how they managed to get them), and one sleeping guard hound right at the side of the courtyard. Katarina expected more of such countermeasures around the chapel-like building as well. The surrounding high fence made it impossible for her to get in anywhere else but the courtyard without being detected, which left her with only one option.

Slinking out of sight from the revolving camera in the courtyard, she hid behind a statue, right underneath the camera that had barely missed her. The cables glinted in the dusky light, soon sparking with a soft 'crack' as a slice cut through them. Shunpo replaced her underneath the camera in the courtyard, ensuring that the hound did not notice her, and took care of the revolving lens. Halfway through the courtyard, she steadied her breathing as she heard the soft beeping of the turret as they panned left and right with their lenses. Timing them carefully, she kept her eye trained on the slumbering hound as she clambered to the top of the pole, keeping her head down as she leapt towards the turrets. Whilst in mid-air, she unsheathed her blades as the turrets focused their laser guides onto her, before panning downwards as one of Katarina's thrown blades cleanly cut their cables. Strutting silently between the two disabled turrets, she picked up her blade, listened carefully through the wooden double doors, and gently pushed her way inside.

Silently closing the door, she immediately leapt from her position to the first-floor ceiling, sinking her fingers through the cracks of wood as she clambered her way upwards to the rafters. Watching the servants below hurriedly moving about, she silently moved through the rafters to reach the staircase, following the painted font of 'TRAINING ROOM' upstairs. Leaping from banister to banister, she continued her crawl until she heard the sounds of conversation behind one of the closer doors. Checking if the coast was clear, she gently landed onto the wooden corridor and pressed her ear to the door, underneath the golden plaque that read 'MAIN SECRETARIAL OFFICE'.

* * *

"What is the Grand General thinking, setting up such a grand affair?! And for what? Pride?"  
She heard the unmistakable baritone voice of Xelmoc, the Head of the House, whose voice seemed more tipsy than usual.  
"We're not fighters, damn it! How the hell are we supposed to match up even against those prissy Cerveaus?!"  
A distinct sound of glass on wood echoed from the door.  
"Calm down, Father." Katarina heard a soft voice sigh. "I will be fine."  
"Fine?" He spat. "FINE?! Do you know who you're up against, girl?! You're up against the four heirs of the Houses of Noxus; Du Couteau, Cerveau, Talros and Fierte. How are we supposed to fucking beat the likes of them?!"  
"Father, please. The Cerveaus are easily bought over, especially that disgusting excuse for a Head. The Talros are just muscles for brains. The only one with remote interest would be the La Fierte; even then, they reserve the prehistoric value of 'Ego', something that can easily be exploited. Am I not wrong?"

"..."  
"Yes, father?"  
"You missed out one. The Du Couteau family?"  
Katarina heard the girl scoff.  
"Please, Father. The Du Couteau family do not even have a Heir. The closest thing they have to one is that beguiling witch Cassiopeia; a first generation heir, I might add. Even if Mistress Katarina adopts one of the trash from the streets the quality of such a child would not be able to uphold the Du Couteau's incredibly ruthless training. Furthermore, the Grand General gave us his blessing, yes?"

Katarina could feel the cocky smiles that were forming in that room.

"There is little to no possibility that we can lose."

* * *

Katarina was at the epitome of seething rage. The cordial belittling of the other Houses, especially her own, struck a nerve in her. Even though she did not agree with Swain's leadership, the other Four Houses have been situated in Noxus for far longer than theirs. She had found the presence of her aristocracy with her fellow noblemen extremely satisfying. The four of them, from the point they were born, highly respected each other in each of their aspects. However, the entrance of such a pretentious family, acting as if they were above all, really struck a nerve within her. She had a right mind to charge into the room and slaughter both of them right now, but it took all of her strength to resist. But what really finally set her off was their resulting words.

* * *

"Jani..." Xelmoc said. "...is this an excuse for you not to train?"  
"Well, no." She replied. "I am still going to train with Brother Gavvid. I am only stating the obvious to lessen your stress...and to ask a favour of you."  
"You would like me to assist in ensuring your victory?"  
"Yes, of course. If you can, of course."

The tipsy voice bellowed out a deep laugh.

"Gahahaha! That's my girl! Don't worry my dear, you will have won the match before you even swing a sword!"

* * *

That was the trigger. Katarina slowly stood up, unsheathed her blades and readied herself to kick down the door, but forced herself not to. Killing Swain's favoured House would be the one thing he would want her to do. It was a mistake coming here; she knew that now. Swain knew that she would do something like this to protect the House, and he made sure that she would be enraged enough to carry out her kills. But she knew this, and bit her lip. She had to find another way to protect her son. A way that would be free of any form of black political magic...

She sheathed her blades as her pupils widened in size. That's it.

Smirking, she leapt upwards, using the door rim as a support, and returned from whereance she came.

* * *

_**Zaun**_

Talon squatted down, letting his fingers touch the fresh blood. He was in an alleyway where he had heard everyone talking about a mugging of some sort. He assumed that the two bodies he had found amateurishly hidden were the muggers, and the mugged escaped. He easily noticed the detached pool of blood away from the two bodies, which he assumed was from the mugged. He noticed the slightly bloody wall, opposite to a gross disembodied heart that had seemingly been thrown against the wall. He couldn't track who had bled, so he decided to recreate the crime scene; perhaps Ekko was here before.

Closing his eyes, he envisioned the fight that took place. In his mind, tens of scenarios played like a record player through his mind. The muggers were stabbed, not bludgeoned, therefore it could have been another person, but in that case the blood stain on the wall wouldn't make sense; the muggers were too far away from the wall, and were carved in the middle of the alley. He slowly began to pick up the little factors in the wall; the cracks made from a bludgeon, knife streaks across the surface, the disembodied heart at the side. It made no sense; the pattern seemed to be that there were four people in the alleyway before, but two bodies of muggers that meant the result of only one fight. But the timing of the entire fight did not make sense; the freshness of the blood was identical to the bodies, making the course of a fight being simply between Ekko and the muggers, who had engaged in a fight that resulted in the marks and stains on the wall, but why were the two stabbed instead of having their bones broken?

Talon's eyes shot open in revelation. There were two fights that took place in the alleyway; one between the muggers and the mugged, and one between Ekko and the winner of the first fight. He mentally slapped himself. The fight that he thought was happening was between the mugger and the mugged, but because Ekko has the Z-Drive, a 4 minute fight could mean 10 seconds. But then, if Ekko was here, why was there only **two **bodies? The mugged killed the muggers before Ekko came by, who should have mistakenly accusing him about killing in cold blood, before beating him down, looting him and left the victim for dead. But there were only two bodies in the alley, not three. The two bodies were definitely of muggers; unclean, unshaved, incredibly ugly, which meant there were definitely four people in that alley. But why wasn't there three bodies?

_"Four attackers."_

Talon stood back up, whipping his head around and searching for any more clues. It makes sense; if the victim managed to beat Ekko, he would have run before anybody could see him, leaving Ekko to die. But if Ekko managed to survive and pull himself out of the area, as he would due to the Z-Drive, the bloodstain on the wall and knife and club marks on the wall would make sense. But Ekko would not have been able to get far without losing that much of blood, and since there was definitely a lack of Ekko in the area, he must have been able to set his wound. The stench of the alley made it impossible to look for any scents, the rubbish making it even harder to look for things.

After searching for a few more minutes, he glanced over to the main street, where the Zaunite factory workers were already heading home. Remembering his promise to Katarina about taking care of the little brat, he climbed up one of the adjacent ladders and began leaping back to the Inn, still wondering about the identity of the fourth person in the alley. The person left no trace, not even blood, meaning that he must have easily taken down both Ekko **and **the muggers without any difficulty. But his thoughts were cut short by the cramps in his gut; he was so caught up in searching for the Boy who Shattered Time, he forgot he had skipped lunch, and was currently starving.

He picked up the pace as the world around him became a blur, masking the staggering Ekko as he steadily walked in the streets below.


	12. Zaun Part 5: Joining

**Disclaimer: I don't own League of Legends, Riot Game(s) does.**

* * *

_**Zaun, Pertis' Inn, 14 days left**_

Aeneas watched with questionable eyes at the food that was on his plate. The shiny brown slab gave off a strange succulent odour that was alien to him, with the leafy green stalks of plant in a large pile on the side and a bowl of pearly white bits of soft grain that he had never seen before. Come to think of it, he had never really had anything besides the red water and loaves of bread that his mother would leave at his door, either pinned to the wall or on a napkin on the floor.

He lifted his eyes to see Talon on the other side of the table, scarfing down his food with voracity as he propped up his legs on one of the adjacent empty chairs. They were in an incredibly spacious suite-like room of the Inn, with two bedrooms, two bathrooms and a fully-stocked kitchen, with a living space of a visual gem for entertainment and a second floor view of the dirty skies of Zaun from the balcony out of a door. He remembered overhearing Talon talking with the rough-looking Innkeeper, who seemed a bit too familiar with Talon as he threw a gold-lined key from the glass cabinet of abundantly wooden keys and shooing them off with mutterings of 'Noxians are royal pains' as he turned to retire to the back room.

He stared with unblinking eyes as Talon stabbed the remaining brown pieces with one of his knives, hefted it into the air and began picking off white sinew that revealed themselves as he bit off the, as he had deduced, meat. He saw Talon look up at him and give a questioning look. He had probably seen his discomfort and, his mouth chewing, motioned him with his head as if to tell him to 'Give it a try.'

Looking back onto his plate, he swallowed as he pushed the rice aside with a fork, picked up a knife and began slicing off the thinner parts of the meat. He wouldn't touch the green stalks yet. He raised the fork that had impaled a reasonably large piece of meat to his line of sight and saw as streaks of white steam began rising from the meat. From another's perspective, the meat was incredibly well harvested and cooked to a good medium, but to him it was as alien as the world around him.

He flinched as he felt the pangs of hunger in his stomach as he bit into it. The light taste of succulence and savoury filled his mouth as he chewed the piece, which gave him the urge to join it with a mouthful of the rice, filled a decent amount of grain for him to eat and eventually swallow. His pupils widened as he found the taste to be delectable as he began reaching for more.

"Heh."  
He heard his 'Uncle' snigger, causing him to look up while chewing some of the green plants.  
"Not really good, huh?"  
Talon had just finished his plate and was picking his teeth with a toothpick.  
"Nothing compared to the stuff we get back at Noxus, eh?"  
He saw the look in Talon's eyes and decided that he should answer, swallowing the bolus in his mouth before replying.  
"…I think it's very good, actually."  
He heard Talon scoff as he looked back down, cut off another section of the meat, mix the gravy with a spoonful of rice and began chewing the mixture.  
"What are you talking about, kid?! You must have eaten something better than this stuff back home, right? It's not like she **starved **you or anything."  
Aeneas heard the sarcasm in his voice and resumed chewing.  
"…By the way, what does Kat even feed you every day, anyway? With all the weird stuff that Noxus gets from its farms it would be interesting what she gave you till you're thin as a beansprout."  
He swallowed and looked up at Talon, who had a snarky look on his face with a toothpick in his mouth, and gave a small shrug.  
"Not much, just some bread and red water every other day."

He flinched slightly as Talon's face changed, from arrogance to a more curious look. He ignored it and continued with his meal, not touching the glass of water that stood further behind the plate. He hadn't tasted anything so great before, which wasn't really saying anything, but he enjoyed it immensely. He picked off the last of the vegetables as he heard another question.

"Hey, kid, have you eaten anything like this before?"

Aeneas swallowed and looked up at him, before shaking his head slightly.

"…No." he said as stacked the still-full water glass and bowl onto the plate and gave a small bow.

"Thank you for the meal."

* * *

Talon watched as the kid dropped the plates into the sink and go for the second floor balcony, closing the wooden door behind him. The kid was unbearably polite; he couldn't find a single reason as to why he should despise him, which he did, much to his chagrin. Sure, he may look like Katarina, but he acts nothing like his roguish and threatening mother. In fact, from the limited exposure that Talon had to him, he could tell the source of his dislike to him; he acted exactly like his father. Disciplined, polite but with an exceedingly irritating feel of a Boy Scout.

He felt a surge of anger rise through him as he twitched the blades that were hooked to his slacks. He had switched out his purple uniform for a simple white shirt with an open red jacket draped over, as well as brown slacks. Of course, hooked to the lining of his slacks were numerous hidden blades and razorrangs in the case of an attack. But in this case he was overly cautious not because of attacks (that happened a lot, believe it or not) but rather to protect himself from the boy who was relaxing out on the balcony.

He lay satisfied in his chair for a few moments while watching the skies of Zaun become exceedingly darker and darker, and before long he could only see the weak glow from the streetlights below. He needed it to be a tad darker before he could actually bring Aeneas out for some legitimate training. He gave a pathetic attempt to rise from his chair before sinking back down, closing his eyes as he began to sleep, aided by the narcoleptic effect of the meat.

* * *

Aeneas crossed his arms on the balcony and stared out into the streets of Zaun. He was intrigued to see the sea of grey-uniformed factory workers trudging away in the streets below, movng as one, creepily wearing the same attire; grey construction hats with grey jumpsuits that made it seem gender indifferent, the marks of their employers branded on their backs and upper left shirt pocket the only defining characteristic. Far in the back streets, he made out in the dim light that men dressed in black and white strode proudly with their canes, following a distance behind the wave of workers. Their employers, perhaps. He watched the people move about below, marvelling at how each and every one of those people have their own lives, families, each of them parading the ideal of each being 'unique', yet so similar. He watched as the workers marched off, their employers following behind them. He lifted his head to see the Zaunite skyline, the mix of grey and brown seemingly tainting the sky, which began fading to black. He rested his head on the balcony, propped up by his arms, and watched serenely as lights began to fade out and the sound of doors slamming shut began fading into the distance, the eerie quietness of the usually mechanical countenance of Zaun with the dying of the machinery being as familiar to him as home. He felt his eyes droop close, the food from dinner serving its purpose for rest.

He was immediately disturbed by a strange sensation on his nose. He slowly opened his eyes and saw a blurry grey form in the middle of the sky. He rubbed his eyes lazily, before realising that it was in fact a mask, its eye-holes barely inches away from his face. He jolted back in surprise, backing a step away from the unmoving facial carapace, before closing in again to see it in greater detail. It was clearly designed with a sheep motif; long strands of ethereal hair at the back of its short head, floating in mid-air, the drooped wooden ears that made it seem somewhat innocent, with empty black eyes that did not let him see Zaun in the background. As he stared at it, he noticed that the strands were in fact increasing in number, appearing in front of his eyes, before the black eyes glowed blue and the...'thing' took its form.

Suddenly, he heard a terrible roar in his head, which he knew for if it was in the physical world, he would have been blown away. His eyes dilated as he watched the strands form the motif of a mouth, a long jaw molted with teeth. It approached closer to Aeneas, and he stepped back. It approached again, and he stepped back. It appeared right in front of his face, and he jolted back in surprise, his back slamming on the closed door behind him. He was terrified now, the long strands of black coiling into shape. It grew and grew, and soon it took a form that could only be described as the head of a wolf, with the body of a ghost. Aeneas' breath quickened as he saw the jaw of the wolf open in a cruel smile.

A evil, familiar laugh echoed through his head.  
_**"Heheheh...Hello again, Child."  
**_Aeneas could not find any words to speak.  
_**"Do you remember me**_**?"**  
Aeneas took in a deep breath.  
"N-No. I don't."  
The being in front of him shook, and his mouth moved without sound, except within his mind. _**  
"You should. We've met ever so many times.**_**"  
**Aeneas blinked and his eyes widened, remembering the nightmares.  
_"_The dreams...What...what ARE you?"  
The being laughed soundlessly, only its next question echoing through his mind.

_**"The same answer to this, Child. What are you?"  
**_"What?"  
_**"Ties of Kindred, that bound your soul...tying you to the realm of death...do you not know what you are?"  
**_"...What?"  
_**"Your family, ties of blood and sorrow, yet you reek of light and life...do you not see?"  
**_"...I don't understand. My mother is all I have."  
_**"You are more of us than of her."  
**_"...I am nothing like you."  
_**"You belong with us."  
**_"I am no ghost!"  
_**"I am no ghost either."  
**_"Then...then what are you?"  
_**"I am a mere hunter."  
**_"A hunter of what?" _**  
"The same things that you hunt."  
**_"You speak nonsense. I hunt nothing."  
_**"You reek of it, yet wear a conscience of ignorance. The numbers you have taken, in such a short time. We have been watching you since the first, Aeneas. We have already seen your past, your future. We already know what you will do."**_

The being in front of him opened its jaws and laughed a terrible laugh that caused Aeneas to slide down the door, his hands to his ears, which did nothing to muff the sound.

_**"You will hunt everything."**_

Aeneas lifted his head to see the being rearing its head back, poised to strike. Aeneas froze in fear.

_**"I am Wolf, Child. The moment you spill a man's blood, I smell it. The moment you cut a throat, I hear it. I watch you as you walk. I watch you as you kill. "**_

Aeneas felt his heart beat faster as Wolf began swerving about him.

_**"I applaud your craving, I applaud your power, and we applaud your will. Your hunt is almost on par with ours. And for that, we wish to grant you a gift."**_

Aeneas forced his eyes shut the moment his saw Wolf jolt towards him, dashing straight at him.

_**"With this gift you shall never fall, and you will soon give in."**_

Aeneas felt something stab through his chest, like his dreams before him, a blade stabbing through his heart and lungs.

_**"Yes...you will soon give in."**_

His eyes closed and his consciousness waned.

_**"And join us."**_

He heard Wolf's laugh echo into the distance, before finally losing all his senses.


	13. Zaun Part 6: Sparring

**Disclaimer: I don't own the League of Legends.**

* * *

"…id…K…d…"

"Wake up."  
"…wa?"

With an aching in his head, he scrubbed his mismatched eyes open and looked up at Talon, who was coldly staring down at him. They were out on the balcony and he was lying beside the door.

"What…what are you doing out here?"  
"I could ask you the same question. I told you that we're training after dinner; trying to sneak in a nap, eh?"  
"Uh…no?"  
"Whatever. Get up and meet me behind the Inn in five minutes. Get every weapon that you got."  
"Okay."

Aeneas dazedly watched as Talon strode back into the room, before staggering to his feet and falling onto the sill. His breath was caught in his throat; it was like a hot poker stabbing through his stomach.

"_That…Wolf…thing was a dream, right?"_

He bent over the sill of the balcony in pain, choking as he felt something rise up his throat. As it pooled in his cheeks, the taste of something unearthly immediately forced him to retch to the empty floors below. He watched as the blackish fluid fell to the bottom floor to the thankfully empty street, flowing into a nearby drain. Emptying whatever that collected in his stomach, he tentatively pinched a gob of the vomit and pulled it to eyelevel, before realising that it wasn't vomit.

Blinking twice, he played with the sticky black sludge between his fingers for a few seconds before twisting his body and vomiting his dinner off the balcony.

* * *

Aeneas cleaned himself up and left in ten minutes. Passing by the slumbering Innkeeper who seemed to have had a bit too much to drink, he was astonished to see the great expanse of field behind the inn. In the middle was a rusty lamp post, glowing an eerie light from the flame that barely illuminated the area. Underneath the glow was the somewhat shadowy visage of an unarmoured Talon, with arms crossed and leaning on the pole.

"You're late."  
"Sorry, Uncle. The food didn't sit well with me."  
"Hmph. Got your stuff?"  
"...Huh?"  
"Blades. Knives. Slicks. Whatever you call them."  
"Oh. Uh…yes."

Aeneas pulled out his basic daggers and presented them to him. They were another present from his mother a year ago for his thirteenth birthday; a pair of modified blades, double-edged and slightly curved, meant for executions and assassinations. He had received them in an ornately carved wooden box, the sheathed daggers cushioned by black foam. He found them extremely light, yet when he carried out his execution the next day he didn't even realise that he had cut the poor man's throat until he felt the blood stain his hands, the trachea flesh easily torn apart by the edge's touch. Aeneas liked them, but he felt that they were always out of place in his hands. Regardless, he favoured them above the others.

Talon gave a strange look.  
"Hey…kid. Hand over those knives for a sec."  
Aeneas gave him a strange look before handing the daggers to him, handle first.  
Talon took a few seconds to feel the markings on the blade.  
"Your mother gave you this?"  
"For my last birthday, yes."  
"Heh."  
He swung one of the knives, marvelling at its lightness.  
"Loaded enough to buy this kind of shit but not enough to feed a kid?" Talon muttered, passing the daggers back.

Talon took in a deep breath unsheathed a hidden dirk from under his shirt.  
"All right then, let's begin."  
Talon twirled the dirk and pointed it at Aeneas.  
"Come and try to land a hit on me."

* * *

Talon watched as his nephew shrunk away from him and stared at him in confusion. He restrained a laugh; you would never expect this weak-looking kid be the supposed heir of the Du Couteau family. But he knew deep down that this image of fear on the boy's face was a farce; it was Talon who should be scared of him. But he had a theory to why the kid had nearly killed him yesterday; a theory that he really did not want to test it out. If his guess was wrong, he would be nothing more than fertilizer since Katarina wasn't here. But if his guess was right…

"Come on, hit me!" Talon taunted. "If you can, that is."

Talon readied the sole dirk he had in his hand as he watched Aeneas lunge at him.

* * *

_**Noxus, the House of Du Couteau**_

Katarina opened the ornate double doors of the House, alerting one of the maids that was carrying a pile of towels across the room. Upon seeing her employer, the maid immediately placed her load onto one of the nearby chairs and dashed over to her. Katarina recognised her as Michelle, a very pleasant Zaunite girl that had appeared at their doorstep fifteen years ago, with her distinct dull emerald hair being the only namesake of her homeland. She was bright and cheerful as she asked for a place in the manor; a position that her father had been oddly glad to provide.

"Mistress Katarina! What a surprise-"  
"Save it. Where is she?"  
The young maid gave her a strange look, before her eyes lit up in understanding.  
"Uhh…oh! You mean-"  
"Yes. Where is that slut serpent that I call a sister?"  
She flashed a look of discomfort before pointing to one of the hallways to the right of the receiving room.  
"Madame Cassiopeia's room is down the right wing, fifth door on the left."  
"Mm."  
The girl instantly switched to a bright smile, showing off her polished white teeth.  
"Would you like a cup of tea, at least for old times' sake, Mistress?"  
Katarina felt a twitch at the sides of her lips before composing herself.  
"No, thank you. I'm in a bit of a hurry."  
Her eyes lit up as she watched Katarina march off.  
_"Mistress Katarina had never thanked me before…what's gotten into her?"  
_Shrugging it off, she rubbed her hands together before returning to work.

* * *

Katarina marched through the hallway, barely noticing the butlers and maids that gave her surprised glances. Her mind was steeling itself for what she was about to do next.  
"Right wing…"  
She stopped after counting to five, standing outside a door riddled with carvings of serpents bursting through seas of brown.  
"…fifth door."  
Taking a deep breath, she reached for the snake-head doorknob and opened the door.

The room was spotless. From where she stood, Katarina saw that the walls were lined with red and gold tapestry, a beautiful mini chandelier hanging from the gaping ceiling, with bright lights from the surrounding bulbs reflecting off the glass and heavily illuminating the room. In the corner Katarina noticed a reading couch, complete with an unlit fireplace and bookshelves, opposite to an abnormally long poster bed with white sheets, emerald green patterns sewn onto them.

The snake was nowhere to be found.

Katarina tentatively stepped into the room, wrinkling her nose from the heavy perfume that permeated the atmosphere. As she stood within the room, she heard the door behind her swing shut. In one swift motion, she unsheathed her blades and swung behind her, before barely stopping her strike before it hit Cassiopeia's neck.

Elegant as ever, the naga kept her smug outlook even when staring down her sister.  
"Katarina. How nice to see you."  
She sheathed her blades.  
"Cassiopeia."  
The naga slithered in front of her, her long tail trailing behind her.  
"It's rare to see you come and see me, big sister." She hissed. "Who do I have to thank for your presence?"  
"Cut the sarcasm." Katarina gave a small cough. The stench of flowers that emanated from Cassiopeia was suffocating her. "Would you care to put on more perfume? It's so much easier to talk to you when my nose is stuffed."  
Cassiopeia gave a hideous chuckle.  
"Ah, do you like it? It's an aphrodisiac that only affects men, sadly. I bought it when I was in Ionia, when I was fuc-"  
"I came to ask you for help, Cass." Katarina interrupted. "I'm not interested in coming into your pace."  
Cassiopeia pouted and slithered a bit further away.  
"Aww…you need to get out more, Kat. The world is so much more than just carrying out Noxus' dirty work, you know." Cassiopeia coiled her tail and settled upon it. "Hmm? My help? Is this about the HousevHouse spectacle?"  
Katarina raised an eyebrow.  
"You know about that?"  
The naga chuckled.  
"Of course, darling. I may look a bit…rough but I am still well in-tuned with the happenings in our lovely little city." Cassiopeia smirked. "You would be surprised, Kat, to know how many men in this place finds my tail so alluring."  
"Hmph. I'm not that surprised."  
"Oh, well. You weren't the playful type anyway." Cassiopeia rested her cheek on one of her open talons. "Are you asking me if I had a heir that you could submit?"  
"Are you offering?"  
Cassiopeia laughed heartily.  
"Oh, of course not. I always ensure that I have…'protection' when I carry out my duties. Besides, it's not as if anyone would be willing to call me a mother." Cassiopeia's eyes lit up in interest. "Is it true that those Houses who are unable to produce a heir will be banished?"  
Katarina said nothing.  
"Your silence speaks a thousand words, sister." Cassiopeia uncoiled herself and began to turn towards the bookshelf. "I could make a few calls…"

Katarina clasped a hand on her sister's shoulder.  
"I have already a candidate in mind. There is no need to."  
Cassiopeia turned towards her suddenly, her pupils lighted up in interest.  
"Oh, really?" She barely could hold her excitement as she coiled back onto her tail. "Who is it?"

Katarina's mind flew into a frenzy. She had not thought it through. One thought let to another, and soon enough she felt her face heat up.

"N-Not important. I just need your help."  
Cassiopeia kept her interested gaze. "Okay…what can I help you with?"  
"I need you to ensure that the Head of the Esprit House isn't planning anything that could jeopardize the matches."  
"And if he is?"  
" 'Convince' him. That's what you're good at, right?"  
Cassiopeia stared at her with amusement.  
"Ah, Xelmoc? Yes, he's a fine old drunk." Cassiopeia uncoiled herself. "And I've come to know that he has a slight liking towards monstrous women recently as well…you're in luck, Kat. I would be glad to help, especially if it's for the House."

Cassiopeia gave a smile. Katarina noticed that she was smiling sincerely, not like the arrogant smirks and seductive twitches, but one that she hadn't seen since they were children. Katarina almost returned it. She had enough emotional abuse for one day.

"Thank you, Cassiopeia."  
As Katarina turned to walk away, she heard Cassiopeia slither deeper into the room.  
"Oh, and Katarina?"  
Katarina froze with her hand on the doorknob.  
"Yes?"  
"Your face is still as red as your hair. You might want to make sure no one gets the wrong idea~"  
Katarina blinked, before opening the door and ignoring Cassiopeia's taunts.  
"Introduce the lucky guy when you get the chance, sister!" She called after her.

"_In your dreams, Cass." _Katarina mentally answered as she marched through the halls, ignoring the curious eyes of the surrounding servants as blasted through the door.

* * *

As she headed for her home, she found herself looking up at the dark skyline of Noxus above. If she was completely honest, she would have said that she detested this place, filled with power-hungry politicians, starving civilians and brainwashed aristocracies. But her true loyalty was to her family. Regardless of what people saw her as; a sadistic genius of death or a disciplined benefactor to the Grand General, she would easily give up all of that if she could ensure the eternal safety of her family. But her father, the one that opened her eyes to such beliefs, had vanished one day into the darkness of Noxus, never to be seen again. If it weren't for that single fact, she was sure that she wouldn't stay in Noxus for as long as she did.

Her pace slowed as she remembered the bright skyline of a place faraway, the golden buildings like a pen to the bright sky, the happy memories of twelve years ago. She had initially come to that place with the intention of ultimately taking it down, but the grandeur of its visage made her think twice. Not to mention the man that had left her in the time of her most need. But no, she did not feel any ill will towards him. He lived by a code that would never get what he wanted. Even if he actually did want it.

She gave a small sigh as she found herself, alone, outside her door.

"_I wonder how he's doing…"_

* * *

_**Zaun, Behind the Inn**_

Talon shook his head condescendingly as he held the unconscious Aeneas by his left arm a foot above the air.

"Tsk. Looks like I was right." Talon looked at Aeneas' unconscious face. "We've got a lot of work to do."

He moved the lean body of his nephew onto his right shoulder, bent down to pick up the two ornamental daggers that Aeneas had dropped and walked back towards the Inn. The flame in the lamppost flickered dully, illuminating the dirk impaled in Talon's back that glinted in the dull light, the blood dripping slowly down the handle and leaving a red trail in the grass behind him as he entered the side door of the Inn.


	14. Zaun Part 7: The Pact

**AN: A friend of mine made a page for Aeneas with his idea of abilities, and I really liked it. It's on the league wiki, at**** wiki/User_blog:SenicamDuCouteau/Aeneas_Du_Couteau,_the_Bastard_Child**

**Also, sorry about the massive delay. Was busy with studies and a camp. Back now, and as a way of saying sorry here are two chapters.**

**Disclaimer: League of Legends has never been, or ever will be, mine.**

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, Aeneas found himself lying on his bed back at the Inn, buried beneath the covers. The pristine white sheets had the scent of the walls; signs of lack of use. Raising his arms to rub his eyes, he laid tiredly on the mattress as he tried to recall what had transpired. He remembered lunging at his uncle who parried the attack and reformed his stance. Aeneas expected Talon to continue through a counterattack, but he simply remained silent as he kept his poise. Aeneas has lunged at him again and again, only to be parried again and again. He remembered getting angrier and angrier with every parry, but nothing after that.

Aeneas sat up from the bed, almost instantly collapsing back onto the bed. His head spun and ached, forcing him to take it slowly as he got up. He realised that his entire body was in pain, feeling his flesh pulse with waves of discomfort. He limped towards the closet and changed out of his slacks to a cleaner set of clothes. His body ached with fatigue, his stomach sending quakes through his body to signal its owner to feed it. He slid into his shoes and limped out into the living room.

The acrid smell of rotting alcohol made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. He turned towards the source, where he saw the unmoving figure of Talon, lying serenely on the sofa with a bottle of Zaun-brand wine in a deathgrip in his left hand. He seemed to have passed out from drinking.

'He never struck me as a drinker,' he thought to himself as he limped towards the balcony door to get to fresh air. His joints cracked with disuse as he opened the door and stepped outside. He held a hand to his forehead as he leaned on the railing. The sky was as dark as the ground below, with only the lamps to illuminate the atmosphere. The empty streets below intrigued Aeneas; when he was mingling in those same streets he remembered the density of people that weighed him down heavily, how they moved seemingly without restraint. He gave a small grin as he rested his head on the sill.

'_You seem glad, child.'_

Aeneas shot to attention at the voice, raising his head to see the visage of a wispy, ethereal being that wore a mask that was very familiar to him. His mismatched pupils widened in fear as he threw himself away from the sill. Lamb was floating opposite the sill, hovering up and down in the air.

'_You have met my other, before. His name is Wolf.'_

Aeneas felt his body, searching and hoping to find a weapon of any sort, to no avail. Lamb gave something akin to a high-pitched, mocking laugh.

'_Do not worry, child. I have no wish to hurt you.'_

'W-What are you?'

Lamb hovered over the balcony sill, revealing the ghostly visage of Wolf's head. She gracefully leapt down from his head, standing upright with bow in hand.

"_We are like you, child. Hunters, looking for their mark."_

"What?!"

Wolf turned towards Lamb.

"_**See? He doesn't even get it."**_

"_Quiet, Wolf."_

Wolf turned away in some instance of exasperation, as Lamb stepped closer towards Aeneas.

"_I am Lamb. The reason as to why Wolf over here had come to you last night is because we have been watching you, Aeneas."_

"What? Why?"

"_It is our job. What we do."_

"Then who even are you?!"

"_We are what you call 'Death'."_

Aeneas turned white.

"_But we have no interest in taking you, yet. We had come to warn you."_

"_**You had nearly taken what was ours, young hunter!"**_

"I-I don't...?"

"_Days ago, you met with another child, a child that has come from numerous almost-lives. And on that day-"_

"_**-YOU could have killed him!"**_

"_But you didn't."_

"_**So we only have one question."**_

"_How?"_

Aeneas was shaking. The one named Lamb showed no ill intent, but Wolf made him shudder. It was as if he was ready to eat him right up.

"I...I don't..."

"_Do not bother answering, child. We already know that you are incapable of telling us."_

"_**That is why we made a pact with you!"**_

"_As it is obvious that you have no wish to use your powers to kill the boy..._

_**WE will do it for you!"**_

Aeneas swallowed. He didn't know what they meant and he didn't want to.

"_Whenever you tap into that power of yours again...we will be watching."_

_**And if you ever meet that boy again, and bring him to his knees again, WE will finish the job for you!"**_

Aeneas' eyes widened in disbelief.

"But I don't want to kill anyone!"

It was Wolf's turn to laugh.

"_**Don't make a fool of yourself! Your entire existence is for it! You're even hunting for your father right now, aren't you? And besides-**_

_In exchange for letting us take host of your body, you will share powers similar to us. This is a most profitable exchange, is it not?"_

Lamb turned backwards, towards the rising sun.

"_It is time for us to take our leave, Wolf."_

"_**We will meet again, little hunter.**_

"Wait!"

But as the sun shone through the dark clouds, the beings vanished with the dawn.

* * *

Talon opened his eyes. The dim sunlight that signified the morning was more than enough to wake him. When he was just a street urchin, he was forced to sleep with an eye open lest he be stabbed in his sleep. The assassins that the guilds had sent after him only set that habit in concrete. He propped himself up from the couch and stared through the open door, where the visage of Aeneas stared out into the distance. Leaving the bottle on the ground, he sat up groggily while clutching his abdomen.

While he wouldn't admit it to her face, Katarina and Aeneas looked more alike than any family he had ever seen. Red hair, polite persona, even the glint in his jade eye was identical to his mother. If it weren't for his gender and one blue eye, he would be a carbon copy of his mother. He was surprised that it irked him far more that he was like his mother than his father. He was a prodigy of the blade, for sure, but he lacked a certain something. But Talon knew, it hid within his identity, a trait that would surface in time.

But for now, he must cultivate it.

Talon tried to stand up, but the sharp pain to his liver and back made it hard. He spat a gob of blood into a nearby tin, wiped his mouth clean and staggered towards the balcony. He took his place at Aeneas' side.

"Hey."

Aeneas broke from his stupor and looked at his Uncle with surprise.

"Hello."

Talon noted the softness in his voice, a tone that he had not heard for a long time. Talon resisted the urge to pat his belt, knowing that there was no rusty blade to reach for.

"Feeling better? You were out the entire day."

Aeneas meekly nodded.

"You do know that we only have a few days left before you have to go back, right? If you keeping dropping to sleep like that you'll be good as dead in the arena."

Aeneas kept silent and kept his head down. Talon gave a small sigh.

"But, at least you're improving, even if it's as small as a Yordle's step. You landed a good hit on me, which means you aren't completely worthless."

Aeneas took attention, but remained silent.

"...Hey, are you listening?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then what did I say?"

"You said that I'm not completely worthless."

"Wrong."

Aeneas looked at him with innocent confusion. Talon gave a small smirk.

"I said you're improving." Talon rolled his eyes. "You were faster than when you were training with your mother. Don't beat yourself up over your losses; that's my job."

"...Oh."

"But...there is one reason why you're going to die if we go back home for you to fight."

Aeneas cocked his head to a side in question. Talon produced a flask from his belt, took a long swig and pointed at Aeneas.

"You fight like a bitch."

"...what?"

"I mean that you fight like a girl."

"...?"

Talon turned towards him and kept his flask.

"All right, let me ask you something.. What's your mother's name?"

"...Uh..."

"Holy shit, are you kidding me? You've lived with her your entire life!"

"Uhm...I always hear people call her a cat."

"Her name is Katarina. Katarina Du Couteau. She's the Head of the oldest clan in all of Noxus. Does she teach you anything at all?!"

"Oh."

" 'Oh'?! Do you even know who you are?!"

"..."

"Kid, if she's your mother that means you're the direct heir. You're gonna be the Head of the House of Du Couteau one day."

"...!"

"And the Heads of the Houses have the be the strongest in all of Noxus. And even I have to admit, she's stronger than me."

Aeneas looked at him with confusion.

"But you are too much like her."

"...I'm sorry, what?"

"She was trained by her father; my master, your grandfather. He had the uncanny ability to discern talent and cultivate them; like your mother and I. He taught us how to fight, how to condition ourselves to kill."

Talon leaned harder on the balcony.

"He was the only man I have ever respected."

"..."

"But he's gone now, unfortunately for you."

"...Me?"

"Yes, you. I'm going to admit it; I have no damned idea how to train you. Remember the first fight you had with me?"

"Uh..."

"I thought I underestimated you. But when I saw you fight two days ago...I wondered where the heart in you went."

"Heart?"

Talon poked Aeneas' chest.

"Bloodlust, kid. It's as if you have like a kill-switch inside of you that kills only when it wants to. Your mother and I, we don't even come close to how fucking crazy you were when you fought me back at the House. But two days ago? I thought you were a girl."

"..."

"Since I promised your mother to train you, I tried to think what was different between the two fights. Can you guess what I found out?"

"I...threw blades in the first one but I didn't in the second one?"

"Ye-NO! How your mother sees you as a prodigy is beyond me. In the first fight I came at you first. In the second you attacked me first. Get it now?"

"...Oh!"

"Yeah. Your bloodlust hides until you're attacked."

"But...isn't that good when I fight in the arena?"

"Nope. You're gonna get slaughtered."

"What?"

"Every single one of the Houses aren't dumb. If they find out you only fight like a real assassin when you get attacked first, they're simple going to keep their difference until you go for them. Then all they need to do is parry you."

"Oh...but I don't know how-"

"Kid, I told you. I'm here to help you. As much you piss me off with your existence, you're still my master's grandkid. As long as I'm your teacher, and you listen to me, you'll win the bracket fights, alright?"

"Okay."

"Good." Talon reached into his pockets and gave Aeneas a wad of notes. "Go and have fun out there. We'll train at night, so save your energy and keep yourself hidden. And get a souvenir, your mother would probably want to know that I'm at least trying to give a shit."

Aeneas studied the Zaunite money in curiosity. "What...is this?"

Talon raised an eyebrow. "It's Zaun money. It isn't gold, but its still money."

"What is money?"

"..._Katarina, what the hell have you been doing with this kid..._You give people it and you get stuff in return. More important stuff needs more money."

"Oh, okay."

Talon took another swig of his flask and pointed towards a far away, but bustling street.

"You can get hextech stuff there. They're cheap, but they will try to cheat you till your pockets are emptier than a Demacian's head. Take your blades with you and kill anyone that you see fit."

"...!"

"I'm joking, jeez. Lighten up a bit. Enjoy yourself."

Talon walked back into the room, heading for his bedroom and leaving Aeneas at the balcony. He sat on the side of the bed and reached for the bandages on the nightstand, rebandaging himself as he heard Aeneas leave through the front door. Once he was done, he changed into his purple robes and put on his blade cloak. He dug through his pockets to pull out the picture of Ekko once more, just to double-check his target. It had disturbed him how young Ekko looked; but a job was a job.

"Sorry, kid. I don't know what you did, but you must have done something really damned terrible if Piltover is asking for your head."

* * *

_**Zaun, Commodity District**_

Aeneas strode through the crowd, keeping his head down hidden under his cloak. The wad of Zaunite money filled his right pocket, making him feel slightly insecure. It was apparently a vacation day, he inferred from the size of the crowd. The smell of oil and metal was overwhelming, even though he was surrounded with stalls of anything but. He glazed his eyes over the variety of mechanical toys, clothes, groceries and computers, discovering that almost everything in the market was affordable by him. He kept his head low and began to wander around from stall to stall, checking out their wares.

"OI! GET BACK HERE!"

The angry yell of a nearby stall-owner caught his attention. He swivelled his head to the source, where the visage of a thief passed his sight. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman, pointed angrily behind him.

"SOMEONE CATCH THAT THIEF!"

Aeneas turned to where she was pointing, to see the perpetrator dashing through the crowd. The crowd seemed to not give half a damn, even giving way. He immediately gave chase. The crowd seemed to be on his side as well, giving way to him and allowing him to have a clear view of the thief.

But they soon turned into one of the many alleys, the thief twisting and turning the sharp corners. As fast as he was, Aeneas was running out of stamina. He felt his lungs ache as the thief got further and further away from him, eventually turning a corner. Aeneas was reduced to a walk, and he already knew by the time that he turned the corner the thief would already be gone.

"Oh, hey! It's you!"

The bright white smile of Ekko, sitting on top of the unconscious thief, shone through the dark lighting of the alleys.

"Now we can turn him in together!"

Aeneas gave him a tired look.

"Hey, you chased him, I whacked him. We both had a part to play in this. What do you say?"

Aeneas rolled his eyes.

"Awesome. C'mon."

Ekko got down from the unconscious body, tied his hands together with rope and began dragging the body, out of the alley.

"I don't believe we've introduced ourselves. The name's Ekko."

"Aeneas."

"Nice to meet you again, A."

"It's Aeneas."

"Whatever you say, A."

The thief didn't stay unconscious for long, waking up as Ekko and Aeneas were leaving the alley.

"Oh, look who woke up."

"W-Where are you taking me?"

"Back to the scene of the crime. Then..."

"Then...?!"

Ekko flashed a smile.

"Then we're going to let you go."

* * *

They brought the thief to the stallkeeper, who screamed and yelled expletives in his face, before taking back the stolen ware.

"Don't worry ma'am, we'll take him to the authorities." Ekko said.

"Damn right! Thank you, both of you." She replied.

"You are welcome." Aeneas said.

They turned to leave, and once making sure that the stallkeeper was no longer watching them, they turned a corner.

Ekko held the thief to the wall.

"Okay, I want to make this clear to you. You are going to walk away from this, as if nothing ever happened. And I never want to see you do anything illegal ever again."

The thief gave an arrogant smirk.

"Oh yeah? Or else what?"

Ekko, with his free hand, swung his club to destroy a huge chunk of the wall right next to the thief's head. He revealed his Z-Drive on the back of his hand.

"Or else I will break every bone in your body in 30 different timelines. Got it?"

The thief's eyes widened in fear. Ekko let him go, allowing him to flee down the alleyway. Ekko let out a small sigh and turned to the awestruck Aeneas.

"What's up?"

"Don't you think that that was a bit harsh?"

"It's people like them that gives Zaun a bad name. And I know that if I just let them go and 'give them a chance' they will never change."

"You didn't have to threaten him that badly."

"Whatever. Let's change the subject." Ekko leaned against the wall. "You aren't Zaunite, are you?"

"Yes, I am from Noxus."

"Yeah, I thought so. And from your hair you're one of those elite bastards. What is someone like you doing in a place like this?"

"Oh, I'm training."

"Training?" Ekko scoffed. "Training for what?"

"I'm not really sure...but I'm supposed to fight other people my age back home."

"Wait...how old are you?"

"I celebrated my 14th birthday recently."

"What?! What kind of city do you live in?!"

"Oh? Does this place not have such spectacles?"

"Of course not! What the hell is wrong with your city?!"

Aeneas shrugged. Ekko rolled his eyes and shook his head in incredulity.

"Okay, okay...but why are you alone?"

"Oh, I came with my uncle."

"Why not your parents?"

"Mother said that she was too busy to train me."

"How about your dad?"

"...I-I don't have one."

"Oh. Sorry, man. Dead?"

"No, I just don't have one."

"Left?"

"...I never had a father."

"You're one weird kid, you know that?"

Aeneas broke a small scowl.

"Well, how about your parents then?" Aeneas rebutted.

"They're both okay. Working at some dumb factory most of the time."

"Y-You have...both of them?"

Ekko realised his mistake too late. Aeneas' eyes began to water.

"O-Oh. Sorry." Ekko scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Hey, you free? I wanna show you something."

"...Okay."

They then headed through the alleyways, with Aeneas drying his eyes.

* * *

"Look at this."

They arrived before a huge mural, dotted with people that seemed no older than Aeneas, with lit candles beneath that illuminated offerings that people had left. Scorch marks from fire and chemicals littered the floors and walls, but the mural was perfectly preserved. It was a serene, tranquil site, hidden behind a maze of alleys.

"Oh, wow." Aeneas remarked.

"Nice, ain't it? My friends and I made these ourselves a long time ago."

"Your friends? Who are they?"

"Ah, we don't talk much anymore. Or at all, actually."

"What happened?"

"I guess...we grew apart. Vi ran away, Jinx went crazy, Ajuna...well. Nevermind."

Aeneas slowly approached the mural, seeing faces that he didn't recognise. The detail of the artistry was actually quite distinct, although the colouring was crude. It was clearly aged.

"It looks very nice. Why are you showing this to me?"

Ekko left his club leaning against one of the walls, crossed his arms and walked to Aeneas' side.

"Well, I wanted to show you why you shouldn't be so sad about not having a dad." Ekko's head drooped. "Even though my parents were there, they always had to work and always left me alone at home. They always came back after I fell asleep and left before I woke up. Even during holidays, they would have to work. It was like I had no parents at all. The money they earned wasn't enough either; I had to make most of the meals for myself by myself. They were...really useless."

Ekko motioned to the mural.

"But then I met them. We didn't know each other, but we had something in common; useless parents. We learned how to live together, love each other; even when newer people joined us...Do you get it now?"

Aeneas looked at him with questioning eyes.

"It doesn't matter how many people you have in your life; its the relationships you have with the people that you care about. So who do you care about the most in this world?"

"...My mother."

"Okay, good. Do you think she loves you?"

"I hope so."

"Then you shouldn't beat yourself up over your missing dad. There's a lot of kids out there that have useless parents like me, or worse. You shouldn't cry over something like that."

Aeneas wiped the growing tears from his eyes and smiled.

"Thank you...Ekko. That was (somewhat) helpful."

Ekko gave a smirk and gave a friendly punch to Aeneas' shoulder.

"No problem, A." Ekko glanced at Aeneas' red hair and furrowed his brow.

"Say...who did you say your mother was, again?"

"Hm? Oh, her name is Katarina Du Couteau."

Ekko's eyes widened in terror as he slowly realised the second mistake that he had done.

"Ekko?"

Ekko suddenly dashed towards his resting club, but was forced to dodge three razorrangs that sourced from the entrance of the alley as they embedded into the wall. Aeneas jumped away from the blades in surprise, hearing the blades of Talon's cape scrape the floor.

"Thanks, kid. You've been a great help."


	15. Zaun Part 8: Clockwaker

**Disclaimer: League of Legends isn't mine.**

* * *

_**13 years earlier**_

_Katarina watched with amusement as her one-year old son crawled on the carpet. His bright, mismatched eyes shone with curiosity as he played with the wooden toys and cutely rolled about on the carpet. She found it disturbing how much her son resembled her; it was literally her face, just with his father's eyes and lone pupil. He crawled up to her and looked up at her face with his large eyes. He held out his small arms in askance. _

_Katarina broke a small smile as she wrapped his arms around him and lifted him up. Rocking him gently, she watched as he slowly closed his eyes. He soon fell asleep, breathing softly. She slowed her rocking and hugged him tightly. She got up, walked to the nursery, set him in his crib and closed the door. She headed to the living room to clean up, picking up the toys that she had given him as hand-me-downs from her childhood. She had found it hard to find a crib without arising any suspicion, so she had ordered a barred box and sawed off the top and put it on a table. Crude, but it worked._

_For a second, she wondered if it was really worth it, taking care of her child like this. It was far more troublesome taking precautions to avoid detection than to simply kill him. It passed as easily as it came, and she mentally chided herself for thinking that way. She proceeded to dump the toys into a box, before a shrill cry echoed through the house._

_She raced up the stairs to the nursery and gently opened the door. She took the crying Aeneas out from his crib and began to softly shush him and rock him back to sleep._

_When he finally calmed down, his eyes became dry and stared up at her face. He opened his mouth._

"_...Kat."_

_Katarina shot to attention at her son's first word._

"_Oh...?! What did you say?"_

"_K-Kat."_

* * *

"Kat~"

Katarina lifted her head from the table, a line of drool forming between her lips and the paper.

"Gwah?"

The seductress that was Cassiopeia was in front of her, her tail trailing well behind her.

"Hello, sister. I see you've been working hard."

Katarina rubbed her eyes and shot Cassiopeia a look.

"Harder than you, at least. What are you doing here?"

Cassiopeia smirked and produced a file, pinching it between her talons.

"Oh, just here to give you information about Xelmoc, nothing important.

Katarina's pupils widened as Cassiopeia slid the file over to her. As she opened it, she realised that everything about the rival House's representative as well as the House itself was present in the file.

"E-Everything is in here..."

Cassiopeia chuckled.

"Of course. You did want me to help, didn't you?"

Katarina gave an unbelieving look at her.

"O...kay."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just that you... being you...I never thought you would do such a thing for us."

Cassiopeia gave a loud cackle.

"Our father made this House be what it is, Kat. I would protect it to death." She gave a snake-like smile. "Especially if it's to protect my sweet little nephew."

Katarina froze. She looked up from the file at Cassiopeia, who gave her a coy smile. She put the file down.

"Ho-How did you know about-"

"I took the time with the others." Cassiopeia produced three more files. "Kat, do you really think the other Houses are as dumb as Esprit? They wouldn't cut corners with us, and especially **you**. In fact, if you hadn't sent him and the commoner to Zaun he would be dead on the floor right now."

Katarina swallowed.

"I've even seen pictures." Cassiopeia tapped on one of the files. The House of Cerveau takes beautiful pictures, by the way."

Katarina gaped at her sister.

"Well, ta-ta, sister. I'll see you later~"

"Wait!"

Cassiopeia slithered out the door, leaving Katarina alone.

Katarina slid into her seat. The four files that sat in front of her scared her more than any enemy. She would take her time reading them; it would at least be more exciting than any paperwork that the High Command could give her.

* * *

_**Zaun**_

Talon, fully uniformed and in no way drunk, held his armblade menacingly at Ekko. He turned towards Aeneas.

"I knew I had seen those blade marks in that alley before. It was from you, wasn't it, kid? You must really have given him a real run for his money then."

Aeneas looked confusingly at Talon.

"Oh well, thanks for the bait, anyway. Now..." Talon turned back towards Ekko. "...what were you doing with my nephew?"

Ekko grit his teeth, his mind racing as he observed his surroundings. Talon threw out a rake of blades, forcing him to dive towards his club.

"So this was all of your plan, dude? Using the kid to lure me out?"

Talon mockingly shook his head and shrugged.

"Welp, I wasn't the one who sent him out to find you, so please don't break your pretty little friendship because of me. I just simply tailed him, and you were so nice so as to bring him to your lair."

Ekko pulled a cable on his Z-Drive.

"Well, too bad. You're in my world now."

Talon prepared another rake.

"I always like a challenge."

Aeneas hid himself behind one of the rubble as his new friend and uncle lunged at each other.

They clashed, club and blade, multiple times. Kicks, blades, disks of blue appeared and disappeared, with Ekko never seeming to get hit by any of them but still seeming hurt. He saw that Ekko's Z-Drive would glow suddenly, before Ekko would appear hurt.

"So," Ekko choked out. "What's your business in Noxus anyway?"

"Piltover wants your head so bad they came to Noxus for help. You tell me."

They clashed once more, but this time Ekko managed to strike Talon by the side of the head, causing him to collapse onto the ground unconscious.

"Sorry, dude. But there's a huge reason as to why you can't beat me."

Ekko raised his club to finish Talon off.

"I'm everywhen."

He brought down the club, only to be blocked by Aeneas' blade. Ekko, surprised from the sudden intrusion, hopped back a distance to ready himself.

"What do you think you're doing, A?!"

Aeneas brandished his blades, holding them backhanded as he readied himself.

"I'm sorry, Ekko. I really don't want to fight you, but I can't let this man die."

Ekko's eye twitched.

"Stupid! You think he is taking care of you?! They're making you fight other kids just to make them fucking laugh!"

Aeneas' hands trembled.

"Come with me, live in Zaun! If you go back you'll die, you idiot! Why would you go back to a place that you say loves you but sends you to die for fun?! That doesn't sound like love at all!"

Aeneas clenched his blades tighter.

"You're wrong about that. I know my mother loves me. Even if she is sending me to die."

Ekko angrily lunged at Aeneas with a swing, which he blocked with his daggers. Ekko pressed his club against the blades with struggle.

"Why?! How can you even tell that your mother loves you at all?!"

Aeneas gave a sad smile.

"Because she didn't kill me the moment I was born."

With that, Aeneas broke away from the struggle. Ekko closed his eyes, steeling himself before readying his club.

"If you aren't going to save yourself,"

He lunged at Aeneas.

"Then I'll just have to save you myself, even if I have to break every bone in your body!"

* * *

_**Noxus**_

Katarina held her head in her hands as she read through the second file, on the file of the House of Talros. Somehow, they had managed to figure out Aeneas' birthdate. According to what Cassiopeia could weed out from the drunken Heads, they used what political presence they had to receive data on all the others; most glaringly her House. They took careful note of her leaves, comparing it to maternal leaves, and calculated accordingly. She breathed a small sigh of relief when she saw the status of 'Co-procreator' as 'Unknown'. But what worried her the most were the Heirs; almost all of them were elites of their Houses and the daughter of Esprit was a magic user.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a soft knock on the door.

"Hello, Mistress?"

"Yes?"

The door opened slightly, and the face of a servant that she recognised as a young woman named Rebecca carrying a tray of food appeared.

"It is time for lunch, Mistress."

"Not hungry. Leave the food here." Katarina waved the servant off.

"Of course."

She set the tray on a nearby table and bowed.

"I will take my leave."

"Wait."

Katarina halted her, who slowly turned around.

"Y-Yes?"

"Your name is Rebecca, correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a child?"

Katarina saw the servant's pupils widen. Obviously, news of the Grand General's invitation has obviously spread fast enough to reach the societal level of the servants.

"Y-Yes." She stammered out.

"A son?"

The servant nodded, holding her head down low in fear.

"Do you care about him?"

"Yes, of course!" The woman clasped her hands together. "Please, Mistress, if you are implying what I think you are implying, please-"

Katarina silenced her with a tired wave.

"No, no. I was just curious. Be on your way now."

"O-Of course. Thank you, Mistress Katarina."

The servant hurried away. Katarina sank lower into her seat. Even the servants have people that they want to protect. Katarina rubbed her eyes as went back to reading.

* * *

_**Zaun**_

Aeneas and Ekko clashed against each other for the umpteenth time. By now, Ekko had rewinded 27 times. Ekko spat a gob of blood to the side.

"You really...really want to do this, don't you?!"

Aeneas rubbed the dirt off his forehead.

"Please, Ekko. I don't want to fight. Just leave my uncle alone."

Ekko hit the floor with his club.

"Yeah, and if I do he'll just be after me again. I'm going to kill him."

With a single motion, Aeneas tossed a wave of blades at Ekko, forcing him to balance onto his club.

"I can't let you that."

Ekko jumped off his club and lunged at Aeneas, aiming his club at Aeneas' temple. Aeneas' eyes glinted as he ducked, flipping upside down and sending a well-placed kick to Ekko's neck, sending Ekko to the wall. Ekko cracked his neck back into place as Aeneas strode over to Ekko, his right eye changing with inverted colours of black and white shining with malice.

Ekko raised his right hand and bit.

"Do over!"

Ekko jumped off his club and lunged at Aeneas, aiming his club at Aeneas' temple. Aeneas' eyes glinted as he ducked, flipping upside down and sending a well-placed kick to Ekko's neck. _1.5 seconds to impact. _Ekko blocked with his arm, but the force still flung him towards the wall. Ekko rolled across the floor to dodge Aeneas' thrown blades, blinking to Aeneas and hitting him across the floor. Aeneas recovered quickly, vanishing in a flash of blue and appearing behind Ekko, driving two knives through his shoulder blades. Ekko screamed in pain and dislodged the blades, throwing himself against the wall.

Aeneas strode over to Ekko, his right eye changing with inverted colours of black and white shining with malice.

Ekko raised his right hand and bit.

"Do...over."

Ekko felloff his club and lunged at Aeneas, aiming at Aeneas' temple. Aeneas' eyes glinted as he ducked, flipping upside down and sending a well-placed kick to Ekko's neck. _1.5 seconds to impact. _Ekko blocked with his arm, but the force still flung him towards the wall. Ekko rolled across the floor to dodge Aeneas' thrown blades, blinking to Aeneas and hitting him across the floor. Aeneas recovered quickly, vanishing in a flash of blue and appearing behind Ekko. _0.1 seconds to impact. _Ekko blocked the blades, but Aeneas immediately swivelled around and kicked Ekko to the ground. Ekko felt his skull crack as he hit the back of his head. He tiredly raised his right hand.

"Do-"

"_**NOT THIS TIME, CHILD."**_

Aeneas leaped and stomped onto his right hand, causing him to scream in pain. Ekko's pupils widened as he noticed Aeneas' inverted eyes.

"W-What-"

"_Your time was up a long time ago.."_

"_**THE RITES OF KINDRED HAVE SOUGHT YOU FOR LIFETIMES!"**_

Ekko watched in fear as the Kindred-possessed Aeneas held up his two daggers, which was glowing with energy. The energy soon solidified, forming two ornate miniature scythes.

"Wait, wait!" Ekko pleaded, but Kindred heard nothing.

"_You have given us much trouble, and fun in spades."_

"_**HUNTING YOU WAS FUN INDEED!"**_

"_But now, this is your..."_

Ekko's pupils widened as he saw his friend smile with malice, lifting the scythes up high.

"_Reve__**LATION!"**_

And they brought them down onto him.


	16. Zaun Part 9: Shattered

**Disclaimer: I don't own League of Legends.**

* * *

_**Zaun, Shrine Room, 12 days left**_

Talon opened his eyes. He shot upright, brandishing his blade about. His sight was blurry, and it took him a while to reorientate himself. A blurry red blob stood in front of him, a small distance away. He pushed himself up, cracking his dislocated shoulder back into place with a grunt before limping towards Aeneas. With each step, his sight became clearer and clearer. Aeneas had his head held down, his trembling hands clutching his daggers, looking down at the body beneath him.

Talon patted Aeneas' shoulder.  
"Oh, you did it." Talon said, giving an impressed look at the rough gash across Ekko's chest. "Wow, you really did a number of him, didn't ya?"  
Aeneas didn't respond.  
"…Hey, you alright?"  
Aeneas dropped his daggers, the knives scraping across the ground.  
"What did he do to earn your ire, Uncle?"  
Talon raised an eyebrow and shrugged.  
"T'was a client, offered a huge sum for his club. No questions asked."  
Aeneas turned to him.  
"Was…he a bad person?"  
"No idea, kid. When someone gives a hit, there's a reason why the guy doesn't just go out and bash them himself, though. Can't know for sure, but it doesn't really matter." Talon smirked, bent down and handed the blades to Aeneas, handle-first. "That's just what we do."

Aeneas grasped the blades and sheathed them into his belt, his hands trembling. Talon rolled his eyes.  
"Hey, was this your first kill or something? You look white. Didn't your mum let you execute some people or something?"

Talon meant it as a joke, but Aeneas looked at him with such a look that it made him feel guilty.

"...Nevermind." Talon let down his cowl and scratched the back of his neck. "So…you wanna go get something before we go back to the Inn? Like…a souvenir or something?"

Aeneas shook his head and gave one last glance at Ekko's body.

"I…I'm fine. Can we please go now?"

Talon shrugged and bent down to Ekko's body, pressing two fingers to his neck. Once he made sure, he picked up Ekko's club and brandished it around.

"All right, let's go back."

* * *

Aeneas stared down at the plate of food in front of him. The food was a carbon copy of the previous dinner, which would have struck him as odd if his mind wasn't so cluttered. Opposite of him, Talon was tearing pieces of meat from the bone with an empty plate in front of him. Ekko's bloodstained club rest against the side of the table. He fidgeted in his seat, holding his head down low.

"Eat up, kid. Tomorrow we're gonna do some real training in the afternoon, after I've sent the clock hand on its way to Piltover. Without your friend to distract us, we can train for real this time."

"…"

Aeneas quietly took his fork and began to eat, picking his food apart. He ate absentmindedly; clearing the plate quickly. Talon watched in disinterest as Aeneas slunk over to the sink and dumped the plates, before whispering a soft 'Good Night' and closing the door behind him.

He threw himself onto the bed, uncaring of his current dirty attire. He held his hands in front of his face, entering a trance as he reflected on the day's events. He should be used to it, he knew; killing should be nothing more than a chore to him, as it had always been. He had killed into double digits by the time he was 10, learning how to hit the bullseye on a target with a knife by 11. His mother had always had him kill, just to desensitise against him against this.

But did his victims ever have a face?

No, they didn't. They always had either a mask over their face. That was his chore; to kill a masked man every 2 days at the order of his mother. If it came down to it, he could easily claim that he has never killed a real 'person' before. No, he has always killed the masked men like animals to a slaughter, simple, quick and hopefully painless. It never struck him to look under the mask, even a little. He never killed anyone that he has seen the face of.

He never killed a friend, either.

His heart hurt as he remembered the fight; he had lost control of his body at the last phases. He knew that those two beings that had 'made a pact' with him was responsible for that. He understood now why they wanted him dead. Ekko's ability was to reverse time; the glow on his hourglass weapon honestly made it too obvious to miss. Aeneas theorized that Ekko must have died a thousand times over; if not more so. He defied the fates of time, destroying the gears that kept it in check.

And what prize would be better than a boy who shattered time?

He felt tears well up in his eyes as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_**Noxus, Du Couteau Manor**_

Katarina massaged her temples. She had done it. She had finished reading every single file that Cassiopeia had given her. For such a sneaky snake, Cassiopeia was still a skilled data collector. Every single bit of information was clearly stated and summarized in the best ways possible. Every single heir, every single Head, every single House was now in her head.

She relaxed onto her chair, resting her head against the back of her chair. She wasn't out of the woods yet. All of Noxus, at the moment, knows about the bracket fights now, and that the Du Couteau has no heir to represent them. If she didn't reveal it to them soon, the Du Couteau would be instantly disqualified. She took a deep breath as she heard a knock on the door.

"Mistress?"  
"Yes?"  
"The representative from the Grand General has arrived."  
"…Show him in."  
"Of course."

The servant soon was replaced by the sight of a man, wearing a cloak adorned with the colours of the High Command. He held his head low in a form of mock respect, hiding his face. Katarina didn't bother to stand up.

"Ma'am."  
"Mhm."  
"I do believe that you wish to make a statement?"  
"…Yeah. The Du Couteau family accepts the Grand General's invitation."  
"Very good, ma'am. Candidate?"  
"Son. Name is Aeneas Du Couteau. 14 years old, red hair like mine. Green in one eye and blue in the other."  
"Very good, ma'am. Preferred method of battle?"  
"Bladework," Katarina paused to ponder. "…and magic. Arcane."  
"Very good, ma'am. Parental lineage, please."  
"Mother is Katarina Du Couteau."

"..."

"What?"  
"Forgive me, ma'am, but how about the Father?"  
"Confidential."  
"Very well, ma'am. One last thing, if I may."  
"What?"  
"In the place of the acceptance of the candidate, I must have your word in which during the spectacle, no form of intrusion by any family member must occur. Regardless of the current state of either candidate."  
"Fine."  
"Very well then. Thank you, ma'am."

The man slunk out, leaving Katarina alone. She slumped back onto her chair, swivelled around and hung her head back while staring at the darkening dusk of night.

There was no going back now.

* * *

_**Zaun, Marketplace**_

Aeneas wandered around the streets solemnly. He had woke up to find a note from Talon telling him to 'have as much fun as he could' before he came back. He crushed the note and head outside; he might as well find something. His pockets were still full of the notes that Talon had given him, which let him feel both insecure and safe at the same time. He trekked through the marketplace, keeping his arms within his cloak and away from the side alleys. The street wasn't terribly crowded, with some stallowners even sleeping in their stalls. He wandered over to a familiar stall that sold strange hextech items; he might as well buy something cool.

"Hello there, looking for-Oh!"

Aeneas looked up from his hood to see the storeowner, who wore a pleasantly surprised look on her face as she recognised him.

"It's you, the kid who got back my stuff, isn't it?!"  
Aeneas gave a small nod.  
"Well I'll be damned; never expected to see you again! Didn't get the chance to thank you for real last time…hey, where's that friend of yours?"  
Aeneas paused and took a deep breath, before shrugging.  
"Oh dear, you two didn't get into a fight, did you? Oh well. So what can I do you for, kid?"

Aeneas scanned over the pieces of machinery in the stall's tray, his eyes landing on a small pocketwatch right at the front.

"How much for that?"  
"Ah, you have good eyes." The stallowner held up the watch by the chain and grinned as the gears glowed under the cover. "Got a bunch of these rusty things from a crashed shipment in Bilgewater; had my useless husband fix it up with a couple of pistons and gears. Didn't know what hit me until one of those insane officials came up to the shop and asked for one of them. Practically threw money in my face just to buy the lot. Only have 3 left; and they aren't cheap, sadly. Don't think I'll ever get a landfall like that again. Triple the price, the useless sod had said. Now no one's gonna buy them."

"So…how much is it?"

"Eh...It's about 1.8k gold. 300 in Zaunite cash. I recommend the others, kid, much cheaper for a kid your size."

Aeneas searched through his pockets to pull out a wad of notes.

"Is this enough?"

The storeowner gaped as Aeneas counted through the notes.  
"270…280…290…300. I've got just enough. Can I please have it now?"  
Aeneas handed the money over while the storeowner continued to gape. She dropped the watch into his open palm with shivering hands.  
"Thank you."  
But as Aeneas turned to leave, the storekeeper broke from her stupor.  
"Hey, kid! Wait!"  
Aeneas turned back to her.  
"Wait just a minute, I'll be right back."  
Aeneas watched as the woman entered the tent, disappearing from sight for a few seconds before reappearing. She held an identical pocketwatch to what she had sold him.

"Here, take this. I got one extra, so no problem. Least I could do for ya after you got my stuff back. Give it to that friend of yours or something, eh?"

Aeneas slowly took the watch by the chain, and gave a small smile.

"Y-Yeah. I will, thanks."

* * *

Aeneas crept along the alleyway. It was harder to return the second time around; his memory wasn't the best. As he turned each corner of the artificially made alleyways, the images of Ekko's corpse flashed through his mind again and again, the blades sticking out of his chest. He knew that Ekko was dead; his strikes were directly at his heart. If Ekko lived through that, then nothing could possibly kill him.

He turned the last corner, arriving at the huge open space that Ekko once called his haven. His corpse was nowhere to be seen, likely the cleaners had already taken his body away. Aeneas walked forward slowly, marvelling at the huge mural a second time. The mural looked untouched; a fortunate thing. The soft glow of candlelight made the picture look rather serene, the pictures of the left and dead seeming to give their final farewells.

Aeneas closed his eyes solemnly, muttering a quiet regret, before shuffling through his pockets to fish out the watch. He held it in his hands, and bent down to the candles. He placed the watch in front of the shrine and looked up at the mural. Only then did he notice that, to the right, there was an empty blotch of concrete. Whether it was really meant for him or that the mural was simply unfinished, he didn't care. He gave a small smile as he waved the flames on the candles, extinguishing them completely. There wouldn't be a need for them anymore; this was now a grave of the past, its sentinel sent to his salvation. There was no more need for guiding lights.

Pulling up his hood, Aeneas gave an amused smile as he noticed that the ticking of the shrine's pocketwatch echoed off the concave walls of the expansion, like a soft heartbeat. Giving one last look to the soon-to-be forgotten shrine, Aeneas walked out.

* * *

When Aeneas arrived back at the Inn, he found Talon waiting for him.

"So…did you find anything?"  
Aeneas paused for a few seconds before nodding.  
"Cool. Pack up whatever you wanna bring back; from now on we'll be training day and night until you drop."  
Aeneas gave a small sigh as Talon gave a wry smirk.

He strode into his bedroom, kept the watch in his pack, and followed Talon out of the front door.

He won't be returning to this place for quite a while.

* * *

**_Noxus, Katarina's House_**

Katarina walked slowly to the front door of the house, fishing through her pockets for the keys as she gave a large yawn. She always hated slow days. Once she was inside, she latched the door and flung herself onto the couch. The fireplace was unlit and the room was relatively cold, but she couldn't give half a damn. Her body wasn't what was plaguing her; it was a matter of the mind. She hadn't had this much trouble with her son since he had trouble with his first execution. She stared up at the ceiling as she contemplated her current situation. Swain obviously had found out about her son's existence, that was for sure. Why was she even trying so hard to keep him alive, anyway? The Du Couteau family already had a heir so there was no real need for her to even procreate. It always irked her that she was the first one in the family to have a child, let alone a bastard child, especially before someone like Cassiopeia. What would Father think of her?

"...Maybe I'm a bit too tired for today."

She forced herself up from the couch and limped to her room. The silence was comforting to her; no sounds of training, no sounds of the living. She closed the door behind her and sat on her bed. She was too tired to bother changing her clothes; she might as well do it tomorrow morning. The dusky grey sky of Noxus had become utterly black, a dreary sight right outside her window. She gave a small sigh as she noticed a portrait by he bedside table. She slowly picked up the frame and gave a quick look. She remembered the picture; it was taken just before she and Aeneas left the clinic for Noxus. The smiling visage of her, holding the bundled, sleeping baby in her arms, staring straight at the camera. She was asked by the doctor if she wanted a portrait, as was a tradition for his little enterprise. She looked back on the event in embarrassment; she was imbued with a childlike excitement at the prospect, and had purchased a copy for her own memory. She marveled at how happy she was, hugging her son close to her face with a look of pure elation.

She felt the sides of her lips perk up as she replaced the picture. Whenever she would forget her reasoning for her love, she would simply just recollect herself and reignite her determination. It gave her the will to continue. She lied back onto the soft mattress and closed her eyes. Sleep would be heavenly for her psyche.

* * *

**_Zaun_**

It was the graveyard shift. The old cleaner was in his 30th year of service; an achievement that he wasn't proud of. He grasped his weak hands around the hextech vacuum as he walked through the maze of alleys, the quiet sucking of air his only companion. But he was particularly chipper today, as it was going to be his last day on the job. He had garnered enough funds in his accounts to allow him to live the remainder of his life in comfort. With his children slaving away at the factories, making money for themselves, the old man had nothing to fear. His future was already looking bright.

He turned into a large room; an oddity in the alleys of Zaun. If it wasn't for the glow of the candles, he would have not noticed the incredibly spacious clearing. He wasn't in a very much of a hurry, so he put down the vacuum and approached the shrine, where the soft luminescence of the flames revealed the relatively large mural of children in front of him. He searched the shrine of candles for any interesting commodities; a habit that he had developed over years of taking the graveyard shifts. He usually found nothing, and this was no different. Nevertheless, he stared in awe of the strange visage. Despite the faded colors, the paintings were very distinct.

His attention was eventually drawn to a seemingly freshly painted image; a child who wore soft, girlish features with crimson colors for hair. The red paint was akin to blood stains, with the smears giving the hair an ethereal feel. Upon closer inspection, the old cleaner observed something rather interesting; the left eyesocket was painted in glowing azure, with the other the color of emeralds, a show of glowing paint. The child held a shy smile, giving the full display of innocence and naivete.

The old cleaner rolled his eyes. There were no goods to be scavenged from this place, he mustn't waste too much time. Striding over to pick up his vacuum, he scoffed as he cleaned up a random chain that laid upon the ground before continuing on his way, into the dark nightscape of Zaun.


End file.
